


Stray Cat

by IdrewAcow



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Absent Parents, Angst, Bachelorette Party, Butch Miku, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Handcuffs, Light Injuries, Negitoro Summer Smash 2019, Single Parents, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 87,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25822033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdrewAcow/pseuds/IdrewAcow
Summary: Miku had a very clear plan: go and celebrate at Meiko's bachelorette party, then go home. This plan did not include justifying her presence to rich snobs, getting emotionally attached to other people, or even making friends. She simply didn't have time for that.
Relationships: Hatsune Miku/Megurine Luka, Kaito/Meiko (Vocaloid)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	1. Lioness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cant_Catch_Rabbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cant_Catch_Rabbit/gifts).



> Here's my entry for the Negitoro Summer Smash of 2019. It ended up being a whole lot longer than anticipated, so it's almost a full year later that I'm now crossposting it from Fanfiction.
> 
> The original prompt, given by Cant_Catch_Rabbit, is the following:  
> "Luka and Miku get handcuffed together as part of a party game. Then the key gets lost."
> 
> Many, many thanks to both RyuNoMe24 and Kokodoru who both helped me in this project, from brainstorming to beta-reading!

"Are you having a good time?"

Somehow, the question had made its way through the music, the lights, the constant chatter, and startled Miku back to the present moment. She blinked, finding Meiko, her best friend since they first met in preschool, her best friend who had flown away almost ten years prior with only a scholarship and a beaten-up suitcase, her best friend who she had seen again for the first time only that morning and with whom she had exchanged only a handful of sentences until that moment before she had disappeared in the fray. In the meantime, Miku saw that the makeup on her face had gotten a bit smudged, and the unfocused look in her eye told her that she had served herself a glass of wine too many, but the sincere concern was unmistakable. She'd missed it.

Miku managed a smile. "Yeah, I am. This is just a little bit different than what I'm used to."

"Oh, I can imagine," Meiko said with a tipsy giggle as she sat next to the tealette. "I'm sorry for bringing you all the way here. I just really wanted to have you by my side these next few days."

"Don't apologize! I'm glad I came, I swear. I'm just a little bit out of my depth, is all."

It was a ferocious understatement. The moment Miku had stepped out of the airport, she had been surrounded by nothing but money. The limo that had picked her up was sleek, new, polished and filled with leather and ivory. The driveway up to the house was lined with tall, carefully pruned trees and bright green, well-watered grass. The house looked like a modern castle, a mansion, with separate wings and too many floors and glittering windows and new paint and a disgustingly gorgeous garden. Out of the limo, into the house, and there was only more: blinding chandeliers, tasselled curtains, checkered marble, gold-plated art, antique furniture, hand-woven rugs, gourmet food, old fine wines, and a fucking chocolate fountain. The guests were dressed to match too, with long dresses, high heels, braided hair and sparkling jewelry.

All in all, it only served to make Miku feel like an alley cat dragged straight out of the gutter. She'd dressed to her nines, of course, but her nines were composed of old ripped jeans, tired work boots, the one shirt that didn't have a band logo on it, and her leather jacket. It was the best she could do, even with all those months to plan ahead. But even she had to admit that she felt strange sitting on the expensive furniture, in an expensive room, looking the way she did. She never was one to feel under-dressed for anything, so it was a major step out of her comfort zone. Still, she meant every word she said.

"Well, I'm just really glad you could make it," Meiko assured her, putting her arm around her shoulders. They used to sit like that after school, Miku remembered. On an old, beaten-up bench somewhere in a park, they'd do nothing but sit around and kill time. It tasted like childhood, summer vacation, and worry-free afternoons.

She smiled fondly. "Same. I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

The brunette chuckled, pulling her closer. "Tell me about what you've been up to."

"Nothing much," Miku muttered.

"Come on: we got lights and sound and a bunch of other people to hang out with: we don't have a ton of time to catch up, so let's catch up!"

"Alright, then you tell me about him," Miku asked.

The brunette sighed happily, leaning into her friend. "He's my love."

"Your love? I didn't think you were a romantic."

"I'm not!" Meiko giggled again. "He's just... He's someone I know I can always depend on. Ever since the first day of class, at uni, he's made me laugh, smile, cheer..."

"That sounds amazing."

"It is."

"What's his name?"

"Kaito. I'll introduce you two tomorrow. He's dying to finally meet you."

"And what's he do?"

"He studied in various human sciences. He's training to be a psychological therapist now."

Miku nodded. "That's good. If he's any good at it you'll live a nice, easy life."

Meiko's smile faltered. "Right."

"I didn't mean that you're not good at what—"

"I know what you meant, silly." The brunette's smile returned, but her eyes lacked the same sentiment. She sat back upright, but kept her arm around her friend's shoulders. "I... I wish you didn't still have that on your mind. Money, that is."

Miku paused, then shrugged. "I guess I do. I have to."

"I wish you didn't."

The tealette didn't reply. She didn't want to talk about it. They were surrounded by monumental wealth, and everybody around them was dressed in woven money. The bulk of it, namely the house, food, transport and so on, weren't Meiko's, but it sent a very clear message: Miku, the car mechanic's daughter, was not only sorely out of place, but she did not fit in Meiko's new life. Her friend had left the ordinary behind, and with it, her exposure to those who lived paycheck to paycheck. And, in the sparse conversation they'd had so far, Miku could see that she had changed. People change over time, and the tealette had accepted that fact. However, seeing her change so much, seeing her with people so unlike her, it made her heart swell with sadness no matter how much she tried to rationalize that it was ok. She felt lucky that Meiko was still understanding, sympathetic even, but Meiko used to know that there was no use in wishing things were different for her. Miku didn't have time to imagine "what if I had more" or "what if I had this life." It wasn't her life and she didn't have the time for those fleeting fantasies. She needed to celebrate with her friend, get home, and help her dad so they could still eat by the end of the month. So Miku couldn't find a proper answer, one fitting the occasion, that didn't sound hostile or felt too much like a slap to the face. She was there to celebrate in Meiko's honor, not to dream wasteful dreams.

She had only one regret, though.

"I'm sorry I couldn't find you a gift."

Meiko sighed. "We already talked about this."

"I know, I know."

"It's not like you to bring these things back up."

Miku's eyes flickered across the room, analysing the faces. Among Meiko's mother, who didn't even seem to remember her, the groom's mother and grandmother, and seven other guests, there was one person she was looking for: the hostess. She swallowed thickly.

"I guess I just feel bad."

Her friend stayed quiet for a minute. Miku finally glanced at her and realized that the brunette had been studying her carefully. Finally, she asked, "Miku, has someone here been difficult with you because of it?"

She tried to feign nonchalance. "Not really. Just being a bit of a pretentious bitch. I'm here to celebrate, not to start a fight, so it's just annoying."

"Who?"

"I don't—"

"Who?"

"Your generous hostess. For this bachelorette party."

"Luka?"

"If that's her name, yeah."

"Oh."

"I don't want to make a big deal out of it. I'm only here for a couple of days anyway: it's not like I'll ever see her again."

Meiko shook her head, pulled her arm back to her side so she could wring her hands together: looks like that nervous habit of hers had never left. "I guess not... Did she say anything to you?"

"Just snarky bullshit. She asked 'What beautiful gift did you bring for our friend?' right after we talked about it, too: she probably saw I had nothing."

"She's... She's not pretentious."

"Could've fooled me." Miku sat back in her chair, eyes locked on the ceiling. It was painted with little angels and scared-looking people: maybe some religious scene. "I see this place she lives in. I see all that she's doing for you. She's loaded."

"That doesn't make her a bad person."

Miku shrugged, and repeated, "That doesn't, indeed. The way she acted, though?"

"I'm sorry."

"It's ok. I'll be out of her hair soon enough. Then it'll all be over." She turned towards the brunette with a smile. "I'm here for you and nobody else, so don't worry about me."

Meiko grinned weakly. "If you insist. I'm... I'm really, really happy you're here."

"As am I."

"No, really. This is the first time in almost ten years that we see each other. The fact that you came all this way despite it all is worth more than anything anybody else could give me. I mean it."

Miku nodded, trying to push down the lump in her throat. "If you say so."

"We'll catch up, these next few days, right? That's all I could want from you."

"Of course."

"And..." Meiko had hesitated but continued with that blunt honesty her friend always appreciated, "If there's anything you can't cover, just tell me. I'll take care of it."

"But you're the bride-to-be, you're not supposed to—"

"And you're my oldest friend. Please, don't let my party become another burden for you. I didn't invite you to cause you more strain."

More strain... Meiko's considerate nature had never died. Thankful despite all that she'd already faced, Miku couldn't help but hug her friend tightly.

"Tomorrow, after the wedding, we're going to sit side by side and you'll tell me everything," the brunette whispered. "When there's less noise."

Miku chuckled. "Definitely."

"Now..." Meiko sat up and briefly scanned the room. "I must see to my other guests. You'll be ok?"

"For sure. I'll just sit here for the most part. If anything, this is all real interesting to watch."

"You'll be up for a few games later?"

"Games?"

"Truth or dare and stuff like that."

Miku couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Truth or dare? What are we, fifteen?"

"It's my party," Meiko teased, sticking her tongue out. "And what I say, goes!"

"Oh, of course, your highness," Miku said snootily, and mock-bowed in her chair. "I will tend to your every whim!"

Meiko winked, gave her a little wave goodbye, and headed straight towards a pair of guests: a blonde and a redhead, both much less sober than most other guests.

Her heart a little lighter, Miku scanned the room, hoping to find some entertainment in the sights.

She wasn't sure what kind of room it ought to be. She would have called it a ballroom, what with the high ceiling and the intricate pattern in the wooden floor. Columns ran from floor to ceiling, and large heavy curtains decorated the windows. She could see that it was already getting dark outside, which was typical for late fall. She guessed it was probably seven, maybe seven thirty. Despite the darkening skies, inside was all lights, lights, and more lights. Maybe in this behemoth of a house, this ballroom was more of a living room, because of the myriad of fancy couches made of either leather or fancy woven fabric, the tables that grouped them together, and other furniture which served random, inane functions, like hold a single vase. There wasn't any TV or gaming system, but Miku guessed that was because those had a room entirely to themselves. Instead, the electronics were dozens of lights, some of which lined the walls, others hidden behind furniture, others hanging from the ceiling, that Miku wouldn't be able to guess the original color of anything in the room even if she was given a hundred years' time. Purples, reds, blues, and oranges flew around and flickered, lighting up the booze-fueled fest and the pretty barbie dolls indulging in it.

Miku scoffed at herself: it wasn't fair of her to be snarky towards them. The blonde and redhead Meiko was talking to seemed like nice people. They all did, with maybe one exception. They probably also went to the same university Meiko went to thanks to scholarships, won through sheer hard work and dedication. They were most likely smart, bright, fascinating people. Maybe they'd be easier to approach the following day, at the ceremony, when less drunk. Not that Miku cared: she didn't plan on socializing much, if at all.

Meiko gave the blonde and redhead that same wave and headed towards a new group. Or rather, straight to the hostess. What did Meiko say her name was? Miku frowned at the sight of the woman: she looked like the house, she looked like money, like a marble sculpture brought to life, dressed in crimson and adorned by jewels.

She was gorgeous, Miku couldn't deny it. What sickened her were the various scowls that had been thrown her way throughout the entire afternoon. She was absolutely sure that she'd seen that the tealette had arrived empty-handed, and the mechanic was positive she was giving her a hard time for it. At least she wasn't roping anybody else into it, Miku told herself. It could be worse.

The song changed, and Meiko and her rich friend went to the empty part of the room to dance. It was probably a favorite they both shared. They'd probably danced to it a million times. They both sparkled, from afar. They were both magnificent to behold.

Miku closed her eyes and breathed out the envy. She was there to have fun, to celebrate. She'd have all the time in the world to be broken-hearted later.

After taking a moment, she opened her eyes and watched them.

They were close. Miku wondered what the hostess had studied. Kaito had done human sciences, and Miku knew Meiko was big in business studies. What did Ms. Marble-come-to-life do? Work out, Miku quickly concluded. Maybe not as part of her curriculum but it was obvious that their well-off friend had all the time in the world to look after her figure: her backless dress showed the world that she was toned, without any kind of hard edge or tan. Miku briefly let her eyes run along the length of her spine, a graceful serpentine curve, before looking away, somewhat angry with herself. She saw her own knuckles, their bruises and scars hard to see in the multi-colored lights, with the tendons becoming all the more obvious: their shadows cut over her skin like knives.

Miku closed her eyes and breathed again. She wasn't the dirty hungry alley cat in the lioness' den, she thought. She was at a party. No animosity, no violence. If their hostess wanted to play mind games, Miku would let her play; she had better things to do.

When the song ended, Meiko and her friend embraced and laughed before the brunette moved to the next guest. At least, Miku thought so, but she instead turned the music volume down.

"Attention everyone!" she called for all to hear. "Are we all here?"

Miku didn't have to reply: she hadn't moved. But there was a series of replies, and the tealette quickly counted heads. Eleven people, including herself. Everyone was accounted for. Especially Ms. Lioness who, surprise surprise, was already shooting her a subtle glare, an all-saying scowl on her blood-red lips. If Meiko noticed it, she didn't let it show.

"Has everybody eaten?"

A short series of cheers followed. The glare didn't stop.

"And I suspect we've all had a few drinks?"

Another, louder, bunch of cheers. Miku had never heard only nine women make so much noise, and one of them was a grandmother! Or maybe the music made them seem louder. Or the room echoed? She couldn't tell. It was hard to focus.

"So we're ready to play a few games!"

A few of them mirrored Miku's initial reaction, but others were enthusiastic. The lioness finally looked away, so Miku rolled her eyes, somewhat amused.

"So what'll it be?"

Truth or dare? Never have I ever? Classic teenage games for silly adolescents or, apparently, drunken adults. The tealette was ready to play along: Meiko's party, her rules, and she was willing to oblige.

Truth or dare was chosen by the bride-to-be, so most of the party quickly got settled in the group of furniture closest to the tealette. The nearby armchairs and couches were quickly filled, while the three eldest to the party quickly excused themselves to the kitchen so they could prepare dessert. Miku couldn't blame them: they probably wanted to avoid any chaos.

As she got settled in the chair she'd never really left, Miku wondered how exactly adults would play this game. Meiko was to get married and most of the others probably had their own partners. If no daring requests for kisses and unwanted touches, what then? Skinny dipping in the pool? Did this house have a pool? It probably had a pool. Maybe even a jacuzzi. Maybe it was close to that gym the lioness used.

Just as Miku started wondering if even that would be a possibility because of how expensive the dresses were, Meiko suddenly said her name.

She'd started the game, as was her right as bride-to-be.

"Me?"

"Yes, truth or dare?"

She suddenly felt seven pairs of eyes on her. There were those who were curious, there were those who were delighted, and there was one that immediately regarded her with disdain.

Miku let it slide off her back.

"Dare."

A wicked smile appeared on Meiko's face, but it was nothing unusual. Knowing her, Miku could expect any kind of crazy trick or trap. All in good fun of course, nothing cruel.

"Wear this."

Miku did a double-take when she saw a pair of handcuffs.

"What the fuck, are those real?"

A gaggle of laughter followed her reaction. "No, silly! They're the more tame version. Easier to break out of, apparently."

"At least they're not fluffy!" a guest contributed from somewhere behind the brunette.

"Ah, fine," Miku held up both her wrists, but Meiko only latched the right one. "Huh?"

"Follow, if you please."

Again, the tealette obliged and followed her friend to the other side of the circle. Before she could even think, much less act, the other handcuff was promptly attached to the very angry lioness.

"What are you—"

"Ah!" Meiko shushed her wealthy friend, and gave Miku a warm warning smile. "You two are going to learn how to get along!"

Miku wondered if was hallucinating, dreaming even, maybe she was still asleep on the plane, but the cold metal on her wrist felt very, very real. "Are you really—"

"Shush!" Meiko shot her that same smile, strangely friendly yet daring her to refuse. "I can't have my two best friends calling each other pretentious or stingy. Ten rounds, you'll be wearing these!"

"Ten...?"

Meiko waved the key before them. "Ten rounds plus five for every time I have the impression that you're fighting!"

Miku couldn't even talk. She felt the other woman pull at the cuffs, tugging her along as she tested the metal, and she couldn't decide who she had to direct her anger to. Was she seeing red, or was it just the lights?

"Now, you two will sit on this couch and put aside your differences!"

The blonde who was sitting next to the hostess went to take Miku's old chair, so the tealette had no choice but to obey, refusing to even look at the other woman.

"Can they still play along?" someone asked.

Meiko considered it. "No. They have much to talk about, so let's let them be."

"You have got to be kidding me," the hostess muttered under her breath. The voice was low, husky. It was almost a growl.

Miku closed her eyes. She listened to Meiko as she took another turn: normally it would have been Miku's, but since she was out, they might as well start again.

She tried to ignore the fact that she could feel the glare on her skin almost as much as the steel.

She tried to ignore the resurfacing memories of her snide remarks, her not-quite-subtle glares she had endured literally all day, throughout lunch and the afternoon partying.

She tried to ignore the fact that she was the one with her right hand imprisoned: lucky Lucy still had her right hand free.

No, her name wasn't Lucy, not quite.

"Just because you are unable to see us does not mean we cannot see you."

Miku wanted to take something apart. An engine. Something difficult. Something that would take her many, many hours and possibly a few tries. She wanted to get her hands covered in oil, she wanted to feel old metal in her hands, not around her wrist. But no. She was stuck in a palace attached to a princess.

"I'm not trying to disappear," she seethed in return.

She was trying to stay calm, she told herself. To honor Meiko at her party. She was there to celebrate. She was there to celebrate, to get out of the cuffs as soon as possible. She was there to avoid any hostile interaction to avoid any addition to their time out.

"So, what are you doing? Trying to find another excuse for not bringing a wedding gift tomorrow?"

This time, Miku was sure she saw red. She dug her nails in the fabric of the couch, but didn't open her eyes, didn't open her mouth, not quite yet.

She breathed deeply, and finally let it all roll off her back.

"I'm trying to keep our company limited to ten round's time," she quietly said. "I probably hate this as much as you do."

The other woman huffed, but most likely agreed; she didn't say anything else, and for a few minutes, Miku could listen to the game, her eyes still closed. She picked up on a few names. There was a Lily, a Cul, a Gumi, an Aria, and a Yukari. Most of them only wanted to do truths, so Miku learned that one of them didn't necessarily wash her hair every day. One of them still bought plastic-wrapped oranges from the grocery store. Another hadn't read a book since graduation.

She counted seven rounds.

Her neighbor sighed. "Alright. Maybe I misjudged you. What did you get her for tomorrow?"

Miku considered staying quiet, but suspected silence might ire her more than her honest reply. "Nothing."

"You're serious."

"Yes."

"You stingy bitch."

"Ah! Five bonus rounds!"

Miku’s eyes flew open. "There were only three rounds left, you ass!"

"That's another five!"

"Meiko, I swear to god!"

"Don't you dare talk to her like that, you worthless—"

"Five more!"

"If you say one more thing, you vapid piece of—"

"That makes twenty!"

Miku bit her tongue, and could see her neighbor was doing her very, very best to do the same.

And to be honest, the woman was seriously intimidating from up close. She was taller than Miku, and by a fair bit, too. And despite the way every single facet of her seemed to be polished to perfection, this serious care in her appearance only made her look more dangerous. The red of her lipstick made her electric blue eyes pop, and the way her hair was tied up only revealed the smooth muscle tone hiding under the skin of her neck and shoulders. Miku knew she wasn't weak by any means; few women her age and size could boast being able to carry as much for as long as she could, but she sincerely felt like she had been handcuffed to an apex predator. This woman could tear her to shreds if she'd let her. God, even her nails were red: nobody would ever see the blood.

And suddenly, the beast calmed down. The angry crease between her brows, above her lip, disappeared, and the pure anger was replaced by resigned disdain. "Twenty rounds it is."

"Twenty-three," Miku gently corrected: she had no intention of provoking her any further.

"Twenty-three..."

Miku closed her eyes again, determined to let the rounds pass uneventfully, this time around. She thought of their altercation, considered the words they'd exchanged. Maybe she could apologize for what she'd said. Would it be worth it? Most likely not: she wasn't ever going to see her again, after the wedding. Never again.

So, she just let it all out. In one breath, she let all the anger, envy, and rage simply flow out of her. All she wanted was to get back to the party.

By the time she'd let it go, she realized she'd missed several rounds. There was little point in counting, so she tried thinking of all the things she and Meiko could talk about later. She wondered about her fiancé, Kaito. He was probably around their age. Was he rich, too? Or had he also depended on a scholarship? Did he also move in from afar? Did his parents also fly all the way here just for this?

She hoped she'd like him. If yes, then she'd have more reason to visit them once they found their own place to live. Part of her couldn't help but wish Meiko would move somewhere closer to her, so she wouldn't need to spend so much on a plane ticket across the Pacific. Then, she could see her friend more often. They'd be able to catch up for real, without other guests getting in the way, or music, or other distractions, or—

"So, how do you know Meiko, actually?"

Miku grit her teeth. "Please don't try to start something again."

"I would not think of starting—"

"Alright! Alright. Sorry. I just want to get back to the party as soon as possible. You too?"

"Of course."

"So no more swearing? No more insults? No trick questions?"

The hostess hesitated, probably bit back a retort or something, but finally said, "Of course."

Miku exhaled slowly and opened her eyes. Her neighbor was a bit more relaxed, but still held some anger in her eyes. She couldn't really blame her. "We met in preschool. We practically grew up together."

"Is that so?"

"Yep."

"How is it that I have never seen you before?"

Miku averted her eyes. "I'm guessing you two met at your university."

"Yes. We shared a class in philosophy. She approached me in order to debate a certain reply I had given. We have been friends ever since."

"So, you know her fiancé, then."

"Yes. He is a great man," she said. Miku could hear the smile. "I am sure you will see tomorrow that they are deeply in love with one another."

Miku chuckled. "Meiko never really was a romantic type."

"That may be so, but their fondness for one another is unlike anything I have seen so far."

"Yeah, I believe you, don't worry. I can't wait to see it for myself. Seeing Meiko be happy makes me happy."

The taller woman paused, and finally said, "Yes. It makes me happy, too."

"I suppose we can agree on that, then."

An uneasy silence settled on them. Miku tried to figure out how many rounds had passed, but there was no way to keep track.

"What do you study?"

"Study?"

"Well, I imagine you have at least finished a bachelor by now. Or am I mistaken?"

"Well, what do you study?" Miku asked back.

"I majored in philosophy. I tried to go into the less-explored stuff: everybody knows of Freud, Arendt, and all the western greats. So I did a general exploration on philosophers who were less in focus, from other areas around the world."

"...Right."

"For my Master's, I decided to go more in-depth on the subject, and actually travel..."

Miku totally zoned out. She understood nothing of all those names, those technical terms. Despite the uneasy truce, she just wanted to get back to the party. She hated being in time-out.

"But I digress. You avoided my question. What are you studying?"

The tealette blinked slowly. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

The woman seemed baffled, before a contemptful frown came over her features. "Then how could you possibly contribute to society?"

Miku bit her tongue, closed her eyes, and did her very best to keep her cool.

She just wanted to go back to the party.

She just wanted to hang out with Meiko.

"Hey, where are they going?"

She opened her eyes at the question and saw that the group was disbanding. She stood, her hostess quickly following suit, most likely due to the forceful pull from the cuffs.

"Is the game over?"

"Let's find Meiko," Miku grumbled, eager to get the key.

Together, wrists still very much stuck together, they made a beeline for the brunette.

"Key, now," the tealette hissed.

"Have you two reached an understanding?" Meiko mumbled with a giggle, her eyes glazed over and her voice slurred. How much had she drunk while Miku wasn't paying attention? Her stomach dropped.

"As close as we will ever get," the other woman muttered.

"Alrighty then. The key, the key..." Meiko patted at her dress, hesitated, then continued searching.

"Meiko, are you drunk?" the tealette asked.

"Maybe," her friend laughed again, pawing at the seams of her dress. "Key, key, can't find a key..."

Miku's patience was paper-thin: if she had to be trapped with this insane woman for any longer, she swore she was going to do something regrettable. But consequently, she would likely be forced to endure another half hour of her company, which was exactly what she was hoping to avoid! So she resorted to staring at her friend with all the patience she could muster, and if the faint clinking of the metal at her wrist was any indication, her undesired partner was trembling with similar effort.

They could also agree that they needed to be separated ASAP, it would seem. But Meiko's movements gradually slowed down, and it dawned on Miku that she wasn't about the be freed any time soon.

Suddenly, Meiko perked up. "Oh, I remember! I put in on the ground: I figured I'd lose it otherwise!"

Miku sighed deeply. "Alright, let's go look for it."

"You two mind doing that? I need to help my mom in the kitchen," Meiko slurred.

"Sure, we're on it."

Miku tried to turn around, spinning on her heel to her right, only to run straight into her neighbor, who'd attempted the same, but in the other direction.

"Watch it!"

"You watch it!"

The taller woman tugged at the cuffs, Miku retaliated, tried to force her way around the other woman, only to run into her again. The tealette grabbed the chain and pulled down, hard.

"Listen. I'm just trying to get us out of this thing. The more we bicker, the more we're going to fight. Let's just turn this way, and get a move on."

The lioness glared back, but finally replied through clenched teeth. "Fine."

Finally, Miku thought, they could get the key and go their own ways. They headed over to where Meiko had been sitting, the entire room still lit up by the neon lights, but there was no key to be found.

"Where is it?"

"Perhaps it is under the carpet?" the hostess offered.

Miku, who had moved to look under a couch, got suddenly yanked backwards when the other took a step to the carpet.

"Hey!"

"I am trying to look!"

"So am I!"

"I turned your way, now we look where I want to first!"

"Fine!"

The carpet had nothing to hide, and after some more fighting, the various armchairs, pillows and other furniture around the game area had nothing more to reveal.

"What color was the key, even?" Miku mused out loud.

"Metal. Shiny."

It would be impossible to find, the tealette concluded. Everything in the household was shiny, everything reflected light, everything shimmered and gleamed.

"You two looking for something?"

They turned around, once again in conflicting directions, but Miku refrained from starting another fight; the blonde guest, also drunk but somewhat concerned, was heading their way.

"Lily!" the hostess greeted her and held up her left arm, pulling Miku's arm along whether she liked it or not. "Have you seen the key to this?"

"Ah, can't say I have," she mumbled, barely audible over the music. "Uhm... One of your staff walked by to clear some of the bottles, earlier. Maybe it was taken away by accident?"

"You've got to be kidding."

"Thank you, Lily! We will have a look."

"No problem! We're all going to be in the kitchen to help with some cooking," Lily giggled. "It's going to be a disaster. Hope you two join us soon!"

"We hope so, too. Don't wait on our count! Go on ahead."

Lily gave them a little wave, not unlike the one Meiko had given them, and disappeared into the hall.

"Follow me, I need to speak to my staff. They will know where it is."

Miku silently obliged. She felt the cuff hang from her wrist, how it sometimes pulled when the other woman walked out of pace with her. Her head was pounding: was it the music, the lights? Was it the fact that literally everything seemed to shine? Was it the height of the ceiling, the length of the walls? Was it the excess of details hidden in every single piece of shit that populated the area? Or was it this woman, this "contributor to society" who only seemed to know how to talk shit? This lioness who had staff at her disposal who cleaned her trash, who kept track of her stuff?

Once out of the room the lights returned to something closer to normal, and the music faded into the distance, but the sheer abundance of things, decor, decorations, continued to make Miku feel dizzy and sick. She suddenly hated the place, truly and sincerely, almost as much as she loathed the person she was attached to. They walked out of pace, the cuff kept pulling, and she noticed they were both holding their arms and hands in such a way to avoid any and all accidental contact. The micromanaging of their actions was exhausting.

After what felt like an eternity walking through winding halls which all looked alike, the taller woman finally flagged down someone who was rushing down the corridors. They had a brief conversation Miku couldn't find the energy to tune into. Her wrist was cramped from keeping her hand away from the other woman's. She couldn't stand the sight or the sound of her, more than she needed to bear. Once the man darted off, she asked, "So, you have the key?"

"You did not hear any of that?"

"No. Where's the key?"

"He said that he will ask the others: if nobody has seen anything, they will look through the trash and see if it was thrown out by accident."

She couldn't believe it. She had people who would dig through trash for her. Miku was ready to dive into a dumpster herself to get free but no, this princess had to let the others do it.

"Well, there is no use in waiting here. We might as well join the party."

"Like this?"

"We may be stuck together, much to our mutual disdain," the hostess said with a bit of that old contempt, "But we are not forced to talk one another non-stop. I am ready to collaborate, for the sake of Meiko's party."

"...So am I."

"Very well then. To the kitchen."

The taller woman lead them down the hall, continuing in their original direction instead of turning back. Miku was lost and had no way to tell where she exactly she was. The house was too big, it was all too much.

After they turned a corner, the hostess cleared her throat. The long hallways filled with nothing but their own beauty carried that sound into an echo, accompanied only by the faint thump of music that carried on in the distance.

"So, if you are such a dear old friend of Meiko's..." she started, "How come none of us have ever met you before?"

"You asked that already."

"You never replied."

"Well, if you care so much, it's 'cause I live on the other side of the ocean," Miku just about growled.

"So? You have no studies keeping you busy. You must have had plenty of time to come visit. Ryain Blair put it best, I believe: If it is important to you, you will find a way. If not, you will find an excuse. And—"

Miku yanked at the handcuff, hard. It didn't budge; the only reaction she got was a loud yelp from the taller woman. Seething, the tealette grabbed at the bracelet around her own wrist, and pulled.

"What are you—"

The shorter woman ignored her entirely, pulling and twisting at the metal, before grabbing it by the chain and trying to pry the latch open with the bone of her own trapped arm. She pushed hard, with no mercy, disregarding the pain as the metal dug into her skin. When the only result she got was drawing blood, Miku let out a sob.

"She said these were easier to get out of!"

"Stop! Stop!!!"

The taller woman's hands tried to get in the way, tried to pry the metal from her grasp, but Miku batted them away.

"Let me go!"

"You're hurting yourself!"

Finally the other woman managed her get the metal band out of her skin and the cuffs under her control, and Miku could only sob again. Her wrist bled, the skin angry and red, and tears burned her eyes.

"Why won't you just leave me alone, you sadistic, evil bitch!"

When the hostess tried to grab for Miku's jacket, the tealette pulled at the cuff again, but her arm hurt so much she couldn't even try to free herself again in earnest. When she realized that she was effectively trapped, with no way out except for the small hope that the paid trash-sorters would actually find the key, the tears finally rolled down her cheeks. She fell to her knees, letting her wrist hang above her from the cuff.

It hurt.

Miku breathed deeply, her hand into a tight fist, but all the emotions, the burn from the wound, they were too much for her to contain. She clenched her teeth, tried to suppress the tears, hiding them as best as she could by keeping her head low. She had nothing else.

Her suspended arm lowered, and she felt the grasp of a warm hand on her wrist, while another pulled up the sleeve of her jacket. There was a short, tense silence.

"You are hurt."

Miku seethed. "You bet I'm hurt. Ever since I set foot in this stupid fucking house, you've done nothing but hurt me. You've done nothing but try to hurt me!"

The hostess stayed quiet for a moment, before saying firmly, "We need to get this patched up."

"Fuck that. What do you care."

The other woman stood, still gently holding her arm. "Follow me."

Miku felt the blood trickle up her forearm, to her elbow. She knew it would stain her shirt, maybe even get to her leather jacket. Hell, it might already be dripping all over the expensive wooden floor. That fucking design, custom-made wooden floor.

"Your name is Miku, right?"

She didn't reply.

"Please stand. You need a bandage."

Miku sneered sarcastically, even though it couldn't be seen. What was the princess going to do, summon her bandage-applying staff? Or maybe her in-house doctor? What next, a helicopter trip to the hospital for stitches? The tears finally slowed, the helpless anger replaced by a resigned one.

"I want to go to the party."

"We will, I promise. Just let me patch you up first."

Miku didn't want to stand. She didn't want to follow that woman, the witch, anywhere. She needed to see Meiko again. She needed to go to a room with decent, normal level of lighting. She needed a room without echo, without music. She needed normal floors made of standard tiles, or that plastic flooring made to look like wood, or even linoleum. She needed to see the cement walls of her dad's garage, needed a drink of tap water out of a standard glass.

She needed something, anything, that was familiar.

"Please, Miku."

She didn't have that luxury, she reminded herself. She was there to celebrate. To see Meiko. There was no time to lose.

"Might as well get this over with..."

Resigned, she stood. The taller woman still held her injured arm in her hands, Miku felt it, and didn't have the energy to try to yank herself free again. Docile, the bleeding alleycat followed the lioness in her den of gold and ivory.

Surprisingly quickly, they arrived at a large bathroom, and the taller woman turned on the lights with her elbow. It was probably a totally normal bathroom to the taller woman's standards, Miku told herself. It had a toilet, sink, bathtub and shower in a corner, with a disgusting amount of room between all units. It would take entire seconds to go from the shower to the sink at a normal walking pace. There were numerous racks from which snow-white towels hung, crisply folded and immaculate.

It was all immaculate. Porcelain, white marble, with golden accents. The cupboards there weren't of wood, but Miku couldn't tell what they were. They were gorgeous, that was all she knew.

The bathroom was gorgeous.

And it was blinding.

"Can you turn down the light?"

"Down?"

"I can barely see."

The other woman turned back towards the door and released her grip around Miku's arm. It was then that Miku saw her outstretched hand: it was spattered with blood. And when she pushed a button, dimming the lights, she left a bright red fingerprint behind. But the woman hardly seemed to care, and turned her attention to the wound.

When the other woman turned on the sink and started rinsing the injury, Miku realized that she was actually going to do this herself, with her own two hands. Somewhat dumbstruck, she could only watch as the woman worked, cleaning her wrist and their hands with lukewarm water and soap. She even carefully made sure the ever-present cuff rested on the back of Miku's hand, well away from the angry gash. The wound wasn't as deep as Miku had feared, but it was long and angry, stretching across the back of her wrist.

The white bowl was soon stained pink. It was a strange sight to see, Miku thought. It was strange to stain the immaculate porcelain, to bleed all over the palace. And it was strange to see her hands in the other woman's, to watch her bruises and scars show and vanish between the suds of the soap, to see those marble hands wash her, their nails as red as her blood. The tealette gulped, remembered to breathe, felt her heart rate slow as she indulged in the gentle, warm touch.

When the taller woman turned off the tap, she didn't bother with the blood still in the sink. Instead, she headed straight for the cupboard beneath it, on her knees with only her cuffed arm still above the porcelain bowl. It was strange to stand over her, to see her from above, to watch her search and toil with the help of only a single hand. Her injured arm was shaking. A sudden red splotch diverted her attention.

"...It's still bleeding," the tealette observed, a new red trail forging a way down, down the back of her thumb, creeping down to the nail before finally letting go and adding another drop in the sink.

Miku wanted to turn on the water, rinse it away, but the other woman instead grabbed one of those immaculate towels and gently pushed it on the wound.

"Hold it there, ok?"

Dumbstruck, the tealette obeyed. The hostess used her free hand to once again wash away the new trail of blood before finishing her search, returning victorious with a first-aid kit. With unpracticed movements, she sifted through the various bandages and supplies. Finally, she found a packet of compresses, painstakingly folded one over so it was of an appropriate size, and set it aside. Then, she took out a bottle, opened it, and ordered Miku to lift the towel.

Miku, entranced by watching the woman work and struggle, blinked at her voice. She glanced at the bottle. "What is it?"

"Betadine. Disinfectant."

It stung a lot, and Miku wanted nothing more than to push back on the wound with the towel, but found that the compress had already been applied before she could complain. The pressure was firm, comforting, and Miku hated to admit it more than she hated the sting. She gulped heavily.

"Hold it."

"Where do I...?"

"You may place it in the tub."

Again, Miku listened, though it needed more of a throw than the woman's words would suggest, and even if the towel wasn't drenched, it still left pink streaks on the tub. She held the compress as her makeshift nurse rolled out some self-adhesive bandage. She handed the end to Miku, who held it down, so the other woman could one-handedly wrap it around the wrist. Finally, the entire affair was neatly bundled up, so Miku held the roll while the other woman cut the bandage and gently pressed the end down. Her skin was pale against Miku's, the tealette noticed. Pale and perfect.

"There we go."

Miku swallowed thickly. "I need to wash my arm."

"What?"

"Blood ran up my arm. I want to wash it off."

She seemed to understand, but finished putting away the first aid kit. "Do you need help rolling up your sleeve?"

"I guess?"

"Then we can do that together."

As promised, they carefully rolled up the sleeve so Miku could wash away the slowly drying trail that had reached just a little past her elbow. When she was done, she was handed another pristine white towel to dry it off.

"There. When you are finished, put that in the tub as well. I will tell Leon this bathroom needs to be cleaned up."

"What's your deal?"

"Pardon?"

Miku rolled her sleeve back down, eyes downcast. "One second you're insulting me, and the next you're helping me, letting me bleed all over your towels and bathroom, patching up my wound. What's your deal?"

The taller woman considered her reply for a while. "I might dislike you as a person, I will admit that. But that does not mean that you are undeserving of help. I was capable of providing help, so I helped."

Miku sighed, and gently, carefully pulled at the handcuffs again. "I'm guessing this is part of the equation: don't want to be stuck to some bleeding peasant."

"I am...not sure that is part of it."

"What, you're saying that if I had gotten stabbed by one of your fancy statues out in the hall and you happened to stumble upon me, you would've helped me anyways?"

Her reply came without any hesitation: "Yes."

"...Alright. Fair enough."

"Now we can finally go back to the party," the hostess said with a sigh.

Miku wanted nothing more than to go back to the party, to see Meiko and to confide in her all the nightmares she'd been forced to endure so far. At least, that's what she thought: suddenly, the prospect of leaving the bathroom, back into the brightly lit hallways, to go back to the noisy LED-infused party, it all made her head spin.

"I— I think I need to sit down for a second."

She thought that maybe the taller woman would protest, would insult her again, but instead, she said, "Ah, sorry. You did bleed a fair bit."

Right, the blood loss. Miku hadn't even considered it. Feeling stupid and weak, she sat down on the toilet, while the other woman stood beside her.

The tealette took a few minutes to breathe, to fully understand that had just happened.

It was crazy.

She was going crazy.

But the bathroom was dark and quiet and it was a blessing.

She felt she could relax, if it weren't for the woman standing next to her.

"You said peasant, earlier."

Miku exhaled loudly: there went her relaxation. "Yeah, I did."

"Do... Do you sincerely think I see you in such a way?"

"I mean, why wouldn't you?" snapped the tealette as she sat straight up. It was a mistake: her head started spinning again, but she powered through. "Considering the way you treat me."

"The way I treat you?"

"Don't play dumb with me. All those questions about the gift I didn't bring, my studies, the fact that I've never even stepped foot on this continent before. I'm fucking dirt compared to you and you're treating me that way."

"I am treating you that way because you are treating our friend like dirt," the woman retorted. "It is her party today, and her big day tomorrow, and you are unable to spare a gift? Even a keychain has worth in sentimental value. Yet you brought nothing."

"Oh please. Don't pretend to be so virtuous for Meiko. Those comments about my non-existent studies has nothing to do with this."

"You are right, but it is an excellent indicator of your character."

Miku was tired.

So tired.

She just dropped her head again and leaned forward, trying to bask in the dark quiet, no matter how bitter it had turned. "Yep, if you say so," she muttered.

"Let me know when you feel better. I want out of these cuffs."

"You can say that twice."

"I will not."

"Your choice, princess."

The taller woman huffed, but thankfully said nothing more.


	2. Bow

After a minute or two of stiff silence, Miku slowly stood, and together they exited the bathroom. The halls were still bright, and as they walked, the music got louder and louder. On the way, they were hastily approached by another staff member.

"We've looked everywhere, but we found nothing."

"Nothing?"

"No. I'm sorry. We'll keep looking, naturally."

"Thank you. I shall talk with my other friends. Perhaps they have seen something."

"Of course."

"Ah, yes: tell Leon we need cleanup in the bathroom in the east wing, ground floor."

"Right away."

"And there might be a bit of blood on the floor leading up to it: please make sure it is taken care of."

After a curt nod, he excused himself and quickly trotted on, surely heading towards wherever Leon was.

Miku wondered how many bathrooms there were. She wondered if they were all like that. She wondered if new staff needed to use a map for the first month or two. She wondered if they were used to guests bleeding everywhere: he didn't even seem surprised.

She hated the place.

The two entered the kitchen, but found that it was nearly deserted. A sizeable mess had been left behind, but cleanup had already started. Flour was on the floor and water was all over the counter, however any bowls or glasses had already been whisked away. Despite the mess, it was obvious that the kitchen was exactly like the rest of the house: made of the best things available, with no concern for how much it would cost. It was all made to fit a stark, strict aesthetic, too; this was no homely kitchen where you made late-night chicken noodle soup. This was a kitchen from a catalogue, for looks instead of use, even if it probably was functionally better than any other kitchen in the area.

It was a waste.

"Oh, they are finished here. Let's follow the music and see where it leads us."

Miku nodded along, feeling much like a dog on a leash. Sometimes, the other woman tugged a bit hard, and the gash would flare up, but she didn't want to start anything. She just wanted out.

They followed the music back to the original ballroom that was actually a living room, and everyone was there, snacking on cake and dessert wine.

"There you are!" Meiko greeted them both with a hug, glass precariously grasped in her hand. "Where have you two been?"

"Trying to find the key," Miku deadpanned, holding up their bound wrists, taking care of not making the bandage obvious: with the lights and Meiko's lack of sobriety, it was an easy task.

The bride-to-be's expression fell. "You still don't have it?"

"Nope."

"Does anybody have an idea where the key went?" Meiko asked the group, but they all laughed and shook their heads. Crestfallen, she turned back towards her two friends. "Oh darn. I'm sorry, you two. I just meant to have a bit of innocent fun. Didn't meant to shackle you two up like this."

"It is fine, accidents happen," the hostess assured her. "We are willing to take any way out at this point, as it would seem that these are not much easier to break out of than real cuffs."

Meiko shook her head. "I don't have a clue what could help..."

"Oh, maybe try a hairpin!" the redhead offered. Miku couldn’t remember her name, but it was clear that she was trying to keep her wits about her. "Any long thin piece of metal really... A paperclip or something."

"How's that work?" Miku asked.

The redhead stood and took the cuff on her friend's wrist. Unaware of Miku's injury, her actions were careless and rough. "See the teeth on the latch, where they go? Push the paperclip, hairclip, whatever, in the sheath as deep as you can, keeping it down against those teeth. Then tighten the cuff around your wrist until the mechanism inside it gets stuck on the clip and voilà, you can slide it right out."

"This works?"

"As far as I know," the redhead said with a shrug before plopping back on the couch. "Saw it in a Youtube vid sometime ago."

"I am willing to try," the hostess said. "Does anybody have one?"

The answer was immediately clear: even among those who had their hair done in a nice way, anything they'd put in their hair wouldn't ever fit the cuffs. There were headbands and scrunchies, clasps and other decorative things, but no regular pins. The crowd shook their heads apologetically.

The taller woman sighed, but didn't seem discouraged. "I should have some hair clips somewhere."

Meiko beamed. "Alright! Need help?"

The two prisoners glanced at one another. "No, I think it'll be fine," Miku quickly said. "Let's just get this over with."

"Agreed."

"We'll save some cake for you two!" Lily promised them.

Quickly, the two scurried away, once again disagreeing on which way they turned around before deciding on going towards the left this time, while Meiko, Lily, and the others wished them luck.

"Why did you say Meiko did not need to come with us?" the taller woman asked once they'd left the room.

"Didn't want her to know that if anything, sticking us together only made us disagree more," Miku confessed. "I'd hate for her to know that two of her friends loathe one another."

"...I had the same thought."

"I guess that Meiko really is the only thing we can agree on."

"And yet—"

"Stop it!" Miku warned her, coming to a dead stop, holding the cuff around her wrist so the tug wouldn't hurt her. "Don't you dare start again!"

"...Fine. You know my opinion by now."

"Yes. Yes I do."

They resumed walking, Miku following behind once again, while the hostess lead her through the veritable maze of halls and corridors. When they arrived at the stairwell, just as magnificent and disgustingly ornate as everything else around it, it dawned on Miku that yes, this place had multiple floors: the labyrinth of hell existed on more than one level.

"How many floors?"

"Three. My room, and thus my hairpins, are at the topmost level."

"Alright. Let's take it easy."

"Are you still lightheaded?"

Miku didn't bother replying, and slowly they made their way to the top of the palace. The stairs were so wide, even if the two women stretched their arms out completely, pulling the chain between them taught, they wouldn't reach both bannisters: there was a solid half-meter to go still. There was also the wide carpet stretched over the steps, the statues perched at the ends of the handrails, the small chandeliers that lit up the way... It never ended.

The trip up the first staircase passed uneventfully, but halfway up the second, Miku suddenly felt that she had to sit down. When she faltered, the other woman stopped, let her sit, and waited patiently without saying a word. Miku kept her eyes on the ground nearly the entire time. Not only did it help her focus in the world of neverending glitter, but she refused to look at the other woman. It was hard not to. Miku wanted to blame the eye-catching, flowing dress, but wasn't fooling herself. The tealette simply stood when she felt ready to keep walking, as silent as ever and her eyes averted. Wordlessly, they resumed their trek up to the topmost floor.

At the foot of the third staircase, the taller woman cleared her throat again.

"So, you are from New Zealand? Like Meiko, I am guessing."

Miku groaned internally. "Yep."

"What is it like there?"

"It's nice."

"There is some jetlag, I am guessing?"

"It's tolerable."

When Miku failed to develop any further, the other woman dropped the subject. They arrived at the topmost floor and slowly made their way to what Miku guessed was the hostess' very own room.

To her surprise, it wasn't any more than the rest of the house. It wasn't any less either, but even if everything was still over-decorated, shiny and expensive, there was barely any more than the bare minimum. She had a bed, a desk, a dressoir, and a large bookcase. In the adjacent wall, there was a door which undoubtedly led to her own bathroom. Opposite it, another door, maybe to a walk-in closet. Miku had never seen one of those before.

The room was still amazing, but compared to the rest of the household, it almost looked humble.

The two headed straight for the dressoir, where they found an entire tiny drawer filled with hair clips.

To Miku's dread, they were all fancy things, made to be decorative on top of being practical.

"You don't have any normal clips?"

"We shall see..."

She sifted through the contents of the drawer, and tried to fit a few into the sheath of her cuff, but none did the trick. Miku looked at her own cuff, found that the latch that went into the sheath was thinner than she suspected, meaning that the sheath was just as tiny. She wondered if a standard hairclip would even fit. Maybe the thin nature of the build was what Meiko meant when she said they were easier to get out of: these things weren't nearly as robust as real ones, or at least Miku had hoped so.

Unfortunately, it only meant that finding a fitting escape tool would be all the more difficult. When Luka picked up what was surely the tiniest, thinnest hairpin in the entire drawer, and tried to use it in vain, she groaned.

"You've got to be shitting me."

"We shall find something else."

"You got any paperclips?"

They headed to the desk, but there they found only a stapleless stapler. Miku didn’t even have the patience to marvel at its engineering.

The taller woman fidgeted, but firmly said, "I never really believed in clips or staples. So much metal going to waste, so easy to lose."

Miku bit her tongue and instead asked, "Any other solutions? Do you have any silverware that'll fit in here?"

"I highly doubt it."

"You got a toolbox laying around anywhere? How about we just chop into this thing with bolt cutters? Or even hedge scissors? You have any of that stuff?"

"Uhm..."

"I can't believe it. With a front yard like that?"

"We commission local gardeners for our garden work. We do not have much of such things on-site, I believe."

All the riches in the world and not a single basic necessity on-hand. Miku could have screamed, but instead, she closed her eyes again, and breathed.

"How about we go back to the kitchen and see if there's something there. Maybe you got some fancy fork with prongs that'll fit or something."

"I highly doubt it, but I shall entertain the possibility."

Decided on their new goal, the duo headed back downstairs, no breaks needed this time. Miku could hear the party raging on in the oversized living room, teasing them.

In the kitchen, they found the three mothers quietly chatting to one another, and two plates with cake. The hostess greeted them warmly, but Miku kept her head down.

"Ah, hello Luka!" greeted the younger blue-haired woman, the fiancés mother. "Is everything alright?"

"We're looking for something to get us out of these," the taller woman explained to them.

"Oh, you need bolt cutters for those, dear," the grandmother muttered gently.

"We have none, unfortunately," the hostess said. "We are looking for something long, thin, and strong to pry them open. We have tried finding hair clips but I have none that fit."

"Oh, let's search through the drawers, then!"

The two parents on the groom's side started rummaging through the kitchen, but Meiko's mother approached.

"Such a shame this is keeping you from the party. But fret not, we haven't forgotten you: here's some cake!"

The two women accepted the plates, both with their cuffed hands, Miku more timid than her neighbor. She wordlessly picked at it with a fork until she noticed that the brunette hadn't joined the search.

"Is that you, Miku?"

The tealette looked up at her, apprehensive. "Hey."

"Oh my dear, it's been a lifetime, hasn't it!"

With surprisingly familiarity, the woman who Miku once considered to be her own mother embraced her. The tealette couldn't help but return the hug with only one arm, and couldn't help but recognize that the woman still had that same aura. Was it her scent, the way she held her, the way her arms wrapped around her? It briefly sent her back to primary school, when her only worries were homework and whether or not they'd eat only steamed veggies that night.

She almost cried.

"It has," she croaked. "How have you been?"

"We've all been just dandy! Of course, my back pain is only getting worse, but that's the way time flies, you know?" she gave her a wink. "And how are you? How is your father?"

"He's been ok. We've been working in the garage together non-stop since highschool, so there's nothing new there."

The older brunette nodded slowly, and wordlessly encouraged her to dig into the cake. Miku went for it, and found it to be tasty, if a bit too sweet.

After a moment, the older woman asked her, "And how are things for you?"

"They've been better."

"I see..." Her mood sobered somewhat. She cast a quick look to the other two elders who were rummaging through the kitchen before continuing, quietly, "I didn't think I'd see you here today. Meiko said she'd invited you, but apparently you were uncertain if you could make it."

"It's been rough," Miku confessed between bites of cake, her voice equally quiet. "I took all my savings and got a last-minute ticket. I wasn't even sure I'd leave the airport in a plane until I physically stepped in one."

"Oh, my dear. It's such a blessing you could come. I'm sure Meiko is positively over the moon that you're here. Kaito, bless him, could offer her the world and it wouldn't have meant as much."

Miku couldn't help but smile, but said, "Doubt it: he's the one she's spending the rest of her life with, after all."

"Nonsense," the older woman scolded her gently. "Of course, he's the one she's marrying, but you're her best friend, Miku. She's missed you so dearly since she left. That you made the effort to come this far for her special day... Now, I dare say that even if the worst of mishaps were to occur tomorrow at her wedding, the mere fact that you're there with her makes the whole show."

Miku put down the plate with half of the slice still on it. "That's very kind of you."

The brunette grinned at her. "You always were a humble one. Now, you need help out of this?" asked the woman, holding up her hand. In the crystal clear kitchen light, the bandage was obvious. "Oh, what happened to you?"

"Workshop accident," Miku quickly said. "Sometimes you bump into something. It happens."

"Oh dearie. You've had someone take a look at it?"

"...Yes."

"Good. If it hurts or anything, you be sure to tell me." She looked at the bandage, then the rest of her hand. "Oh sweetie, you've had your fair share of accidents, have you..."

Miku shrugged. "Comes with the job."

Again, the woman nodded, running her thumb over the various scars. The touch was sad, but kind and warm. Miku resisted the urge to keep her hand there. "I suppose so. Now, let's find a key for this thing, hm?"

With that, the elder turned around and joined the two others in the search. It was only then that Miku realized that the hostess, who was still shackled to her wrist, had naturally been standing there that whole time, eating her cake. Her eyes were averted, and it was clear that she tried not to listen in, but in vain.

Miku fixed her eyes on the ground and refused to say anything.

The kitchen was abuzz with activity while the three matrons dug through drawers and sifted through cupboards. Every now and then, they put something in front of the two women, only to find that it was too thick, too wide, or just too damn short. Nothing seemed to work, from metallic chopsticks to escargot forks to some new-age designer whisk.

"None of you ladies have a good ol' hairpin?" Kaito's grandmother asked at one point, but they all shook their heads. "What of the other girls?"

"None have any," the hostess observed. "We have looked everywhere?"

Meiko's mother shrugged. "Everywhere in this kitchen. Have you checked the garden shed?"

"They don't have one," Miku said, doing her best to keep her tone even. "No cutters or scissors or anything."

Kaito's mother shook her head. "I'll call my husband. He'll bring over some cutters, but it might take until morning: he's probably asleep by now. Anybody have a quicker solution?"

"We flew in a couple of days ago, I'm afraid all I could do is buy new bolt cutters when the stores open tomorrow..." Meiko's mother said apologetically. "And that's on top of the wedding itself."

"If he could bring some bolt cutters tomorrow morning, we would be very grateful," the hostess quickly said.

"You two will party like that?" asked the grandmother.

"I'm sure we shall manage."

"...Yeah. I guess."

"Very well. If either of you need help with anything, just holler!" Meiko's mother told them. "We'll keep our eyes peeled in case we find anything else."

"Thank you."

The duo exited the kitchen, but Miku didn't take more than a few steps before coming to a halt.

"What is it?"

"You really planning on us going back to party like this?" the tealette asked, gesturing with her wrist.

The other woman sighed. "We have wasted more than enough time on trying to find a way out. We might as well make do and be there for our friend. We will be free tomorrow before the wedding."

"I'm not sure you're understanding the ramifications of this."

"How so?"

"How will we sleep? What if one of us needs to piss? And it's my own fault for not saying it earlier, but when you so much as pull at it the tiniest bit, my wrist hurts like hell."

"Why are you determined on making this difficult?"

"I'm not! I'm just pointing out that we can't just forget that this is an issue! It still is an issue! A very real one!"

"It certainly does not have to be nearly as dramatic of an issue as you make it out to be. I shall slow down and be more careful with your wrist."

"What of the other things?"

After a second's thought, the woman seemed a bit hesitant. "I am sure we shall work out suitable solutions when the time comes."

Miku huffed. "Fine. What are we going to do about the fact that it's clear as day that we can't stand each other? Can't just go back to the party like this. I'll want to go one way and you the other. If one of us wants to dance and the other doesn't, what happens then? There's too much to just settle on 'we'll figure it out when the time comes.' It won't work. Every single time we want to turn around we bump into each other, damnit! So, we'll inevitably start fighting, and Meiko will see what kind of hell she has unleashed at her own bloody party."

"Don't you dare accuse Meiko of our own behavior!"

"I'm not! I'm—" Miku groaned. "I'm just... Just saying that... Forget it. You get what I mean. You pretend not to just to get on my fucking nerves."

"Pretend? I legitimately do not understand you."

"For crying out loud... I meant that our behavior is atrocious, no excuse. But Meiko locked us together: even if that can't ever excuse our behavior, she's going to give some of the blame to herself. You know that."

The taller woman considered the words, then nodded. "But that is not all that I do not understand."

"Ah for fuck's sake. Is that why you like playing twenty questions so much?"

"Yes."

Miku sighed. Her head was spinning again, but she clenched her teeth and forced herself to stand straight. "Alright, fine. I'll play, but only in the hopes that we can set our differences aside, and for good, so we can get back to the party."

"That was my goal all along."

"Well, my goal was for us to go our own separate ways and never see each other again. Don't want to have to explain and excuse myself to rich pricks, otherwise I'd be spending my whole life doing it."

"That is—" she cut herself off. "Well. Would you like to discuss this sitting down? I don't see us having this conversation in the hall."

She was right, so Miku merely nodded. She once again followed the other woman towards what she hoped would be a quiet room.

They didn't walk for very long, but the distant music had faded away and Miku was already totally disoriented by the third time they rounded a corner. When they finally did arrive, she felt lucky to find the first decently-sized room of the day. The lights were once again painfully bright, so she gently requested that they be dimmed.

"These cannot be dimmed."

Miku glanced around the room: a window, in front of which there was a desk, then two chairs, and against the adjacent wall, a couch.

"Let's just turn on the desk light."

The two awkwardly made their way to the desk, turned on the light, negotiated the u-turn, returned to the door and turned off the ceiling light.

The fierce golds and whites turned into muted greys and yellows. All the decor, all the details, the jewels, they disappeared in the obscurity, and Miku felt all the noise in her mind quiet down. She let out a deep, satisfied sigh.

"Let's sit," her hostess invited her, so the tealette followed, only somewhat begrudgingly.

Again, they had to negotiate their approach to the couch, but once they were seated, Miku felt better.

Everything was quiet. Even the gash on her wrist stopped throbbing. Her senses could relax a bit.

After another sigh, Miku just said, "Alright, shoot."

"Shoot what?"

"Just tell me what you need to know so we can return to the party with a solid truce."

"I am simply baffled. I know Meiko is a warm, generous, compassionate person. I cannot understand how she could call you of all people her best friend."

"Alright. And this is because of...?"

"You have brought nothing for her. To add to that, all I learn about you points to the fact that you are a lazy, self-centered human."

Miku opened one eye to glance at her. "How much of my conversation with Sakine did you overhear?"

"Sakine?"

"Meiko's mom."

"Oh."

"You didn't know?"

"...No."

"That's fine. How much did you overhear?"

"I did not listen."

Miku blinked. "What? It was obvious you heard something."

"I respect that you two were having your own conversation. We are shackled together but that did not give me any right to listen in. I did my best to tune out."

"You did your best, but you heard something."

"After Sakine lowered her voice, not a word."

Miku tried to recall what exactly they said before that point, in vain. She shrugged, settled into the couch, let her shackled hand rest on the expensive fabric between them, pulling just enough to keep her hand away from the other woman.

She took a second to breathe before starting. "Alright. Wanna know why I'm an uneducated loser? It's 'cause I didn't have the time to study dead people, or numbers, or books, and 'cause I can't afford a degree in talking shit, or whatever it is you do. Before I graduated, I spent every moment of my free time doing homework in hopes that I would finally wisen up and get a scholarship, and when that failed, I spent all of my free time helping my dad in our garage. We fix cars for a living. We fix cars to survive, to eat, to keep our heads dry. We're damn good at it too, but nobody trusts a female mechanic. Misogynist pricks. But hey, even when my dad worked alone, the place where we work was enough to turn people away. Fucking slum is what it is. So, guess how much we make? Barely enough to keep our chins above water. So just imagine how much effort it took me to gather enough money for a visa, then a plane ticket. A gift, on top of that? Impossible. It's one or the other. I prefered to show up."

"Could you not...save?"

"Can't you just save..." Miku chuckled darkly. "Christ, what are you, a child? I've never had more than thirty dollars in my pocket at any given time, how can you expect me to save? At the end of every day, we count how much money we have. We use that to eat. When we had a bit more than what we need to eat, we spend it on home repairs to keep everything warm and dry. When we have more than that, we got new clothes because we've had the same wardrobes for five years, or a new tool to replace one that had fallen apart. There's always something."

The taller woman didn't reply. That crease between her brows returned, but not out of anger: she truly was puzzled.

"You don't get it, do you? In our situation, when you finally have dollars to spend, you don't have the luxury to save money. You need to save yourself first." Miku sighed deeply. "So... Yeah. I'm here, sitting on your couch, with thirty dollars in my pocket. I'll spend it on lunch tomorrow, during the free time everyone has before the wedding. And all that I have left over, I'll bring it home, because this is my last pair of pants and chances are there's a new pair my size at the thrift store. I can't... I can't spare Meiko anything more than my time."

The tealette took out her wallet, an old thing of leather torn apart by use and age. "Can't even put coins in this antique," she mumbled before opening it and showing Luka the tattered twenty and ten bill inside it. The whole thing looked like little more than a torn pile of leather and paper. "Voila. Behold, all the riches I possess."

The hostess blinked slowly. “I… I assumed that…”

“Yeah, you assumed.”

The taller woman bristled at the words before turning away.

"So, yeah. I'm sorry I can't contribute to society more, or whatever. I'm doing my best to fix cars. The cars of other families, of our neighbors. They also have children to feed. I guess I feel lucky we don't need to drive to work: just another thing to maintain."

"Are you telling me that you live..."

"In the garage, yes. Less rent to pay."

"...And yet, despite all that, you made it all this way?"

Miku glanced at her neighbor, and saw the terrifying truth finally settle in. Something about it, the faint shock, the tinge of shame, didn't fit right on that face. The red lips, blue eyes, they were designed for pride and a casual smile. "Yeah, I guess."

"A ticket over the Pacific is... I don't even know."

"Easily a few hundred. Even the cheapest ones."

The lioness turned to frightened housecat: she slumped in on herself, hiding her face in her free hand. The other hand which rested on the couch clenched into a fight fist.

She suddenly looked so small. Miku watched, unsettled but mute, as the proud marble sculpture slowly crumbled to dust. She saw it in the way she tried to disappear, how she turned her head away from the tealette, curled her back towards her, how that hand that hid her face wasn't nearly enough to hide her shame.

Miku almost thought she wouldn't speak. She even thought that the woman might deny her, call her a liar. But the hostess surprised her.

"I've been monstrous to you," she croaked, the voice muffled.

"Yes. What, haven't you heard of extreme poverty before?"

"I— I knew that Meiko came from a...difficult area, but—"

"Meiko lived in an entirely other neighbourhood. Compared to me, she had it real good."

Miku watched the other woman closely. She watched how she shook her head oh so slightly, how the muscles on her back and arm twitched, almost as if she had to keep reminding herself that she couldn't hide behind that other hand, too. That serpentine spine was now a broken bow, an arch suspended over shame. What was she feeling? Denial? Regret? Did she even believe what she'd said? Did she believe such living conditions existed? But even as she studied her, seeing the proud, self-assured woman be reduced like that, made something swell in her throat. She redirected her gaze at the ground.

"And after the wedding, you will go back there?"

"Yes."

"Stay! I'll—"

"I can't. My dad is still working there. We don't have that many work orders this weekend but two people still produce double the amount of work of one person. Sometimes even more. He needs me."

"And your mother?"

Miku frowned. "If... If you have to know, she left. Found a new hubby with deeper pockets."

The other woman turned to face her, and her expression was finally easy to read: dismay.

"It's ok. It happened when I was really young. Meiko's family helped a lot through it. It made us better friends."

The hostess nodded, slowly, the muscles of her jaw flexing as she considered her next words. "I am guessing you two have not kept in touch despite that because of..."

"More monetary reasons. Can't spare the expenses for stamps or even for a phone line."

"Heavens."

"We make do."

"You should not have to just 'make do'. Is it not a basic human right to have life, liberty and personal security? To an adequate standard of living?"

"I mean... What we have is adequate, I guess. We can wash ourselves. We can stay dry. Our home isn't about to fall apart. And as long as we keep working, and keep working well, we'll be secure. I mean, until one of us has an accident or anything. Others have it much worse."

"I must confess, I have difficulty believing all this."

"You had no idea that what you have here is the opposite extreme?"

"Of course I know that! I might be sheltered, but I am not daft..."

"Do I need to tell you about homelessness?"

"No. I— I know about that."

"So don't worry about me. I'll be ok. I just hated how you were speaking to me."

"I am so sorry. For everything. I cannot believe you did not tell all of this to me sooner."

Miku shrugged. "I grew up with a very strong need to prioritize. I don't have time to justify myself to every snob I come across, so I didn't want to waste time explaining all of this to you either: I just wanted to spend time with my friend and never see you again. I didn't even think it would be worth the effort, 'cause I thought you wouldn't believe me."

"And now you are telling me all of this simply because you have to, if you..."

"...if I want to spend time with my friend," Miku finished for her. "Exactly."

The taller woman straightened herself slightly, her expression more composed, but her clenched hand betrayed what she felt. "I believe you. And I give you my sincerest apologies. I... I will remember this, so I might not put my foot in my mouth again in the future."

Miku almost couldn’t believe how easy it was. "Alright, anything else?"

The other woman shook her head, and took another minute or two to think. "Is that all?"

"Is it? Is there more you want to know?"

"No... My odds with you are settled. I was unspeakably rude to you, you who have worked so long to simply show up. What I am asking is what I must tell you so that your odds with me might be cleared."

Miku looked down at their cuffed wrists. "To be honest, it's fine. I just want to have fun and leave."

"And never see any of us ever again?"

"Yeah. So I have to admit, I don't care that much. It's good to know you were just ignorant, not cruel, but other than that..."

The other woman looked almost crestfallen. "You do not care?"

"No. I mean... I never asked you anything, did I? Not really. It should've been obvious by now."

"You have told me so much about you. It would be fair, I think, if I told you something in return."

Miku blinked. "Fair? As far as I'm concerned, we're on even ground in the way that you're no longer going to yell at me and I won't yell at you. I just want to go back to Meiko. Don't you?"

"I do. But I would like to make amends, somehow."

"No need. You bandaged me, you're a friend of Meiko's... Hell, even if I were to judge you based on how atrocious this house is, I'd have to admit you've got some good in you."

The taller woman seemed conflicted. "You— You do not judge me?"

"Before you started being nasty with me, no. Look at me: I’m looking better than I ever have here, and this is after a long flight. I've been judged for how I look all my life. Not about to do the same. And as I said earlier, I've learned how to prioritize. How you treated me meant way more than whether the spoons were made of stainless steel or silver."

She sighed, but her fist didn't relax. "That is fair, I suppose."

"Can we go back to the party, now?"

"...Maybe it might be worth spending a bit more time discussing those issues we talked about earlier. While we are here."

"Issues?"

"For example, if you are not completely against it, tonight you are welcome to sleep in my bed. That is, if we are not freed of these cuffs by then. We could also sleep in the guest room prepared for you, but I believe my bed is wider and could grant us each some more space."

Miku hesitated for half a second. "That works for me. How would I get dressed, though?"

"I am sure we can look opposite ways."

"No, I mean..." The tealette tugged at her jacket. "My shirts. You've got that fancy sleeveless dress, but unless I can fit you through my sleeves, all I have is staying on."

"Oh dear. That jacket of yours' will have to stay as well."

"Yeah."

"I am afraid that beyond cutting the clothes off, we do not have a solution for this."

Miku sighed. "Guess not."

"I will have a fan brought to my room to keep it cool: I can imagine you are stifling as it is."

"That would be perfect, actually."

"As for bathroom breaks..."

"I'm not, like, bladder shy. So as long as you look away, I'm good."

The taller woman didn't seem so confident. "I think I will have a bit more trouble."

"It's alright. We'll figure that one out as needed."

"I suppose we will."

After that, they discussed other minute details: if they needed to make a u-turn, it was decided that they would alternate. Since their last turn was to the right, the next would be to the left, and so on. The same would be applied for personal objectives; they each got a turn speaking to whoever they wanted, or dancing, to go get a drink, etc.

"Ah, if either of us needs to write anything, you might as well do it," Miku said at one point. "Being in handcuffs makes it hard enough as it is, but my wrist still aches."

The hostess glanced at their hands awkwardly. "I am left-handed."

"You're kidding."

"Do you think Meiko did this on purpose?"

Miku chuckled. "Knowing her, absolutely."

Without warning, the lioness chuckled, before outright laughing, and Miku couldn't help but follow suit.

And it felt good. It felt nice to finally laugh, smile. And even though she had to laugh with the person she had until very recently considered a veritable witch, Miku couldn't care less. No, it was rewarding. It was comforting. Suddenly, a headache she didn't realize had been building all this time subsided, and when they were done laughing, the tealette finally felt like she was actually on vacation.

"So," she started, still giggling somewhat, "Awkward question incoming, but what's your name?"

"My name?"

"Yeah... Others said it, but it didn't stick."

The woman rolled her eyes, but seemed more amused than anything else. "My name is Luka Megurine."

"Nice. If we're gonna go all formal full-name format, I'm Miku Hatsune."

Still chuckling, they even mock-shook hands to seal the introductions. "At least two hours into being shackled together and we finally get to telling each other our names. About time."

"Yeah. About time."


	3. Dreams

With everything finally cleared up, the duo made their way to the party. Meiko greeted them with another cheer, only to be crestfallen when she noticed that they were still bound at the wrists. Once it was explained that it was no big deal and that the party could go on, she lightened up, before seemingly forgetting about it entirely. Soon enough, they were unleashed back into the room of LEDs and trance music.

Luka did most of the talking, admittedly. She introduced Miku to the other guests: the redhead Cul, the blonde Lily, Gumi, Aria. They all met at the same university, if not all at the same classes. Lily met Luka in history of philosophy, but knew Gumi from history of religion and science, for example. There were other friends, of course, but they were all at Kaito's stag party that night.

When it was Miku's turn to choose what they would do, she most often went to those she knew: Meiko and her mother. Sakine was a sweetheart and gently asked if her arm was indeed alright, and the bride-to-be was perpetually toeing the line of drunk. Since her friend list was so much shorter than Luka's, she didn't mind too much to skip her turn, so to speak, and follow the hostess around the party with a plateful of pretzels or a glass of water.

There were a few more games, but mostly chatter, laughter, and sharing stories. Miku got to hear a bunch of tales from their university days, stories all the other woman told her enthusiastically as they finally had someone new to tell them to. There were difficult exams, useless study sessions, occasional parties, but for the most part, a lot of hanging out by the beach, laying around in the sun, reading books in the shade and sharing secrets away from the crowds. Even though the alcohol made the group seem like a loosely-tied mess of debauchery and indulgence, once they really started talking, Miku could see that they were indeed thick as thieves. She could see it in the stray touches they shared, the teasing winks, the sincere laughter, and in the words of comfort after the rare joke made at someone's expense.

And even though she was the odd one out, her old ties to Meiko seemed to compensate for it entirely: they got to tell their own stories to the group from primary school, highschool and anything in between that they could remember. Miku couldn't help but admit that she liked the undivided attention in those moments. It was kind, warm and welcoming.

Between the laughter and merriment, which was fueled by canapés, wine, and sparkling water, Kaito's mother confirmed to Miku and Luka that her husband would be over with bolt cutters first thing the following morning. It was excellent to hear some confirmation that there was indeed a way out in time for the wedding, and Miku actually felt completely worry-free.

She snuggled into the couch they were seated on, a fair bit away from the party, at her own request: she needed a little bit of quiet, so for her turn she asked for ten minutes of calm.

"So he'll be here at nine or so?" she asked Luka.

"Yes, at the latest."

"What time is it right now?"

"A little past midnight."

Miku blew a raspberry: she hadn't seen time fly by. "You think this will go on for a long time?"

"Knowing them, they might party on 'til two or three o'clock. But tomorrow is a special day. They might show some restraint."

"Two or three..."

"You have never partied this late?"

"Never. Never even stayed up this late, at least not for the past decade: I always have to be at the garage at first light."

"Perhaps it is the jet lag playing in your favor."

"Probably. Back home, it's a little past seven in the evening, I think."

"Ah, so you do have the unfair advantage."

"It might actually be perfect. By the time we go to bed, it would be my typical bedtime. And nine in the morning tomorrow is four in the morning back home, so a little before my typical day starts."

"I think this could not have been planned better," Luka chuckled. "The effortless transition between a typical workday and a late weekend party. A superpower envied by all."

Miku prepared to answer, but Meiko joined them.

"How are my two bestest friends?"

"Just dandy," Miku said.

"You two getting along after all this time?"

"Fortunately, we are."

"Excellent! I'm sorry you two will be locked together for a little while longer. My mum-in-law says you'll get bolt cutters tomorrow, right?"

"That's right."

"Perfect!" Meiko took another sip, before continuing in a quieter tone, "Now, it would be a real shame if once freed, you two would part ways once and for all. I know you're one to let people go without giving them a chance, Miku! Don't pretend that wasn't part of your plan!"

"She has actually told me that outright," Luka said.

The brunette rolled her eyes. "Dearest Miku, do you have any friends back home?"

"I don't have time for—"

"Exactly! How 'bout you give Ms. Best Friend the Second a chance here? Why don't you get to know her? And tomorrow, you two could dance together at least once, alright?"

"But I'll leave the day after," Miku tried to defend herself. "There's no point—"

"Nonsense! Luka, I trust you to socialize with her a bit. Tell you a bit about your life, make'er miss you when she's gone!"

Without giving them a chance to protest, the brunette turned around and disappeared back into the party.

Once it was clear that Meiko was gone, Miku said, "Please don't."

"Please don't what?"

"Make me miss you. Meiko leaving was hard enough as it is. I don't want to miss more people."

Luka looked at their bound hands on the couch. "Missing people is a sad feeling. However, it is good to have people to miss."

"It's good, but it's hard. It's more to think about, to deal with. I don't have that luxury."

"You really are determined to leave without making any new friends?"

Miku looked at the group, at the other side of the room. All people she'd gotten to know if even a bit more over the course of the evening. "Yes."

"It is entirely possible for us to visit you."

The tealette scoffed. "Meiko hasn't in ten years. I don't hold it against her: back home, in our town? There's nothing to find there but memories. There's nothing to go back to, really. And nothing to visit. The rest of the country? Yeah, sure. But home, no."

Luka didn't reply right away. She drummed on the couch with her left hand, and the tealette could feel the tremble of the fabric under her right hand.

"I noticed you have not been drinking," the hostess suddenly remarked.

"What's this got to do with anything?"

"Nothing. I am making conversation."

Miku sighed. "Well, I noticed the same about you."

"I am hosting and I would like to make sure everybody is having a good time."

"And I don't touch alcohol. It's a principle of mine."

"Is there a reason?"

"Does there have to be?"

"No. I just want to get to know you."

"Why?"

"Even if you do not wish to miss me, I hope to one day be able to miss you."

Miku shot the taller woman a confused glare. "Why?"

"You are a good friend of Meiko's, and she has missed you dearly. If we could all miss you together, it would be a bit less bitter and a little more sweet for her to deal with."

The tealette shook her head. "Alright, fine, have it your way. No alcohol in the house is our biggest rule. After mum left, dad had a weak moment. It almost got us kicked out of the garage. After I saw what it can do to a man in only a few short months? Never wanted to touch it. So I don't drink."

"Ah, I am sorry."

"Don't feel sorry for me. Just accept that most questions you'll ask me will be met with an uncomfortable reply that reminds you that my life sucks compared to yours. If you wanna keep asking despite that, I won't stop you."

"Why not?"

"It doesn't cost me a thing to tell you about me. I know my life."

It took Luka a moment to figure it out. "You know nothing about mine. And the less you figure out, the better."

"Bingo."

The taller woman fidgeted. Miku chuckled, and continued, "You can keep asking. I don't mind if you'll miss me. Might warm my heart a little. But I won't ask anything."

"Well, what if I told you all about my life without waiting for questions?"

"I can tell you're not the type to do that. Not sure why. You'd rather people ask first."

Luka frowned. "How could you tell?"

"Just by observing how you've behaved all evening."

"Very well."

The two sat in silence for a while, and Miku took the time to close her eyes and relax a bit. She figured Luka might claim her turn soon, so she wanted to re-energize before diving back into the fray.

Plus, she needed some time to compose herself. She did know a bit about Luka, thanks to the stories they'd all exchanged over the course of the party. There were also those mock-questions Miku had asked when they had first gotten chained together, but those had been designed as a diversion: she hadn't really paid attention to her replies. Despite that, she'd learned what Luka's worst grade was, that the most dangerous thing she'd ever done at a party was accidentally push a guy off a balcony into some bushes below. She knew that she met Meiko first, then Lily, who introduced them to Gumi, who later brought them Aria.

She knew a few more details, too. Would it be enough for her to miss the woman? Maybe, maybe not. But she liked her odds so far and didn't want to give in more terrain. Plus, by keeping quiet, she might discourage the woman from asking more.

Miku wasn't dumb, and knew that revealing details didn't quite cost nothing. It made her just a little bit vulnerable to judgment, and while she couldn't care about whatever anybody had to think, the act of sharing, of talking was an exchange regardless. Conversation was a two-way street, and by giving, Miku had to take, if just a little.

She appreciated that Meiko wanted her to make friends and socialize, but hated it all the same. She couldn't spare the time or the energy. She simply couldn't.

"You said that you did not judge me, earlier," Luka started out of the blue.

"Yeah?"

"Yes. You said the way I treated you was more important than knowing if the forks were steel or silver."

"So?"

When the taller woman failed to reply, Miku opened an eye and saw that she looked genuinely vulnerable all of a sudden. She sat up to stop her, but Luka continued, "I think that, of all the people who saw my wealth before seeing who I am, you are the only one who refused to judge me."

Miku shrugged. "Makes sense. Huge house, huge car, lots of good food, nice drinks... You fit a certain stereotype."

"It is not just about the stereotype," Luka softly chided. "It is learning very, very quickly that I should not listen to my parents all the time. Learning that I should not dress the way they do, that I should not drive around in a limo, or talk about our collection of cars, the pool, the latest painter we hired for a family portrait. Because all those things only ended up getting me all sorts of attention. At first, I thought it was fantastic, naturally. When you are a nine-year-old girl, being the popular kid in class is amazing! That first invitation to a sleepover is incomparable. But then you show up to an apartment complex with your little suitcase filled with useless stuff and ask why they all stay in the same room when the house is so big. You learn that no, they only own that one room. And for dinner, there is only one course. And they do not own the latest console, they do not have a dog or a horse or a home gym. And once you realize that you are practically the only person in the world to live like this, that you have made a tremendous ass of yourself, the humiliation is crushing." She laughed, dryly. "And when my friends continued talking to me, it was such a relief! I thought that they would never forgive me. We kept hanging out during the lunch hour, helping each other with arts and crafts, as children do. And I thought it was all alright. But then they started asking when I would host a sleepover. And asked me how much pocket money I got, if I could buy them candy at the store, give them a lift in the limo. Everybody invited me for their birthday parties, and no matter what I got them, I always heard 'but you gave her this! Why couldn't I get that?' That was when I learned that I was nothing more than a means to an end. A utility. Nobody really liked me for who I was."

The tealette looked down at her hands. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"I learned. I dressed myself, asked better questions, or" —she chuckled— "or at least I thought I did. And I tried to get people to know me before they knew anything about me. I would like to think it is working, so far."

"It is."

Luka fidgeted again. "I can only suppose. I love my friends dearly, but I can only wonder if that sentiment is returned with the same sincerity."

"If you're so scared of them loving you for your money, why even show it?"

"I am blessed with an amazing ability to give. I can give so much and it would not cost me a thing."

Miku regarded her neighbour carefully. "You wait until you feel like their friendship is honest, but even then, you can never be quite certain, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, if Meiko can love an alleycat like me, then you can be sure she loves you with all her heart. I'll admit I can't speak for the others, but you have at least one true friend there."

"Yes. At least one."

Miku smiled. "You're a good person, Luka. Even if everyone you ever knew ended up being nothing more than a leech, at least take pride in the fact that you do your best to be good. You can't control how others think or behave, but you can control yourself. And you did a great job."

Luka remained quiet for a moment. "Coming from you, that means more than I can say."

The tealette smiled, caught herself, then cursed under her breath before sinking even deeper into the couch. "You know, if you wanna return to the party, it's your turn to choose by now. Has been for a while."

"I would like to stay here."

"Fair enough. So do I."

"How did you manage it?"

"Manage what?"

"Coming here."

"Hard work, lots of saving."

"But you are sitting here with more money you have ever had."

"I didn't think the half hour with almost five hundred dollars in my pocket counted."

"You know what I am saying. All your life, jumping from dollar to dollar."

"Why do you need to know?"

Luka looked away. "I have a feeling that you are not telling the whole story."

Miku sighed. "Alright then, if you insist. Sometimes we save up a bit. Parts cost a lot, but we also charge work hours. Lots of work hours, big windfall of money. Sometimes, we can put a few bills to the side by the end of the month. Sometimes, we can do that a few months in a row. But when that happens, my dad goes and buys some new piece of tech for the garage. Sure, it'll make our lives just a bit easier, and sure, it makes our garage look more well-equipped, more professional. My dad always swears that 'this is the thing that'll bring the customers in!' but it never is. And it never really pays off. We just get set back again, with a new piece of tech sitting in the corner, waiting for the rare moment we'll actually need it. Well, ever since I got the invitation, we agreed that all extra money goes to the plane ticket. That's how."

Luka shook her head. "You are staying very still."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You are hiding something. When you talk, you are always gesturing a bit, looking around, moving. But when you were talking about this, you stayed very still."

Miku glared at her, and noticed that indeed, as she said all that, she'd had her eyes fixed firmly on the ceiling. "Maybe it's for a reason. I'm not a criminal, if you're wondering."

"I am not! I... I can tell this might have cost you more than you are letting on."

"Since when are you a psychic?"

"...Just observing how you have behaved all evening."

The tealette chuckled. "Fine. You're right. I won't tell, though."

"That is fair. I am sorry for prying."

"Nah, that's what you do. With the best intentions, mind you, but it's what you do."

"I blame the handcuffs: I have nobody else to pester with my questions."

They shared another short laugh.

"Are you feeling better?" the hostess asked after another brief silence.

"Still a bit lightheaded at times, but eating and staying hydrated helped."

"I have not said it yet, but I am sorry for provoking you to that extent."

"It's fine, water under the bridge."

Luka raised a brow. "You have quite a tall bridge."

"Prioritizing. If it's an issue, I'll let you know. If it's not, it's not worth wasting time over."

"Ah, right."

Miku didn't say anything more, and Luka didn't start a new conversation, so eventually the hostess took her turn and they stood to mingle with the other party-goers once again. Inevitably, Meiko sidled up to them, a bit less sober than before.

"So, Miku," she said while dancing a little to the never-ending loud music. "Another opportunity to catch up a bit. I'm getting married. Anything happening on your end?"

" I don't have time for that," the tealette replied.

"Don't have time, don't have time..." Meiko bumped her with her elbow. "You never go outside or something?"

"You know my answer to that."

"Well, maybe you'll find a handsome lad while on your vacation here? Maybe at my wedding tomorrow? Plenty of pretty princes. Or princesses, if you're like Luka here."

"Meiko!"

While Luka turned around and pretended to hide away after her outburst, Miku stammered, "Uhm... I won't have time either way once I get home. So even if I meet someone—"

"For crying out loud, Miku! If you're just not interested in a relationship, that's fine. But as long as you keep blaming external factors, I'll keep pestering you with it."

The tealette nodded, arms at her sides. "I'm not really interested. I'm fine as-is."

"Alright, that's fair! Now, Luka—"

"Not now, please," the hostess hissed.

"Oof, fair, fair! I'll put my nose in other people's business." Her humor dwindled a bit, and she said softly to Miku, "Sorry for prodding... It's just been ten years. I've no clue what you've been up to. I'm trying to get to know you again. Is that ok?"

Miku chuckled. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Maybe a bit."

"It's fine that you ask. I'm fine with it. It would probably be easier to catch up when talking one-on-one though, like we said earlier, yeah?"

"Fair point..."

"After we get these cuffs cut off, we could go have lunch together, if you're not busy?"

"Yeah, that could work! Let's do that!"

"Perfect."

"And it'll be my treat!" Meiko quickly kissed Miku's cheek. "To thank you for coming all this way."

"Oh, uhm—"

"And don't you dare mention it, ever! Or no lunch for you!"

"If you insist."

"I do insist!"

Lily called for Meiko, barely audible through the music. The brunette shook her head. "Looks like duty calls. Catch you later?"

"Maybe. I might be going to bed soon, though," Miku admitted.

"Fair enough. In case we don't run into each other, meet at breakfast?"

"Sounds good."

"Alrighty, then!"

Once again, Meiko simply flew away, and Miku once again felt sad that there wasn't more time, that she couldn't come even a day earlier, stay a day longer. And what would have been the point of staying longer? Her friend would leave on her honeymoon without delay, knowing her.

She was starting to see that the anticipated long hours of catching up simply wouldn't happen as she had wished.

"Do you wish to go to sleep?" Luka asked her, eyes downcast, still hiding behind her free hand a bit.

"Maybe not right away. If there's still someone you want to talk to, go ahead."

"No... I think I want to sit outside for a bit."

"Outside? Why didn't you say that was an option earlier?"

Luka chuckled, still sheepish. "I guess I never considered it off-limits. Everyone is staying inside because that is where the lights and food are."

"By all means, let's go outside. I'd love the fresh air."

She followed her hostess through a few halls until they reached a room too much like all the others, filled to the brim with riches and money. Its only outstanding feature were the large floor-to-ceiling windows, obscured by silver, sheer curtains. When Luka turned a handle and opened one of the windows, a gust of warm air filled the space. Miku closed her eyes and felt it eagerly: even if it wasn't cool, it was new, fresh air from outside.

They stepped onto an elaborate terrace, with tiles on the floor, wooden posts covered in climbing vines around them, holding up a small roof overhead. The vines covered the roof naturally: it wouldn't ever be waterproof, but Miku imagined that it would be the perfect place to sit during the daytime, in dappled sunlight. Maybe it had flowers that she couldn't see, or that weren't blooming right then.

It was probably the most beautiful space she'd seen all night.

Luka kicked off her high heels, and thus discarded five full centimeters of height over Miku. She wasn't that much taller than her, the tealette suddenly saw. But she was still tall, strong, and breathtaking. There was no denying it, she really was like a marble sculpture come to life. Especially in this light, with the yellow lamps from inside the house illuminating her from one side, and a strange blue hue from outside, she could just as well have been made from flawless stone.

Miku suddenly realized that Luka had been waiting for her to take her shoes off as well, and she obliged without asking why, undoing her laces as quickly as she could. It took some effort, mostly because she needed both hands for the tight knots and Luka had to follow her wrist as she reached down. At that point though, they could collaborate wordlessly, so it was a quick, silent affair. Work boots off, she kicked them next to the hostess' stilettos and followed wherever she might lead her.

After a few twists and turns around a few hedges, Miku realized that the strange bluish light came from a pool. It was like a large, pale eye placed in a bed of darkness, a haven surrounded by nothing but the night itself.

All sounds seemed muted, there. Miku could bet that the bushes she couldn't see were absorbing the sound, making it all seem quieter, or maybe she was simply used to the acoustics of a large, noisy, empty room.

This place seemed to be truly quiet.

They approached the shallow end of the pool, and Luka slowly sat down, giving Miku time to follow suit. Then, she rested her feet in the cool water, let out a deep sigh. Her eyes slowly drifted shut.

"I needed this," she whispered, her voice quiet, almost a whisper.

Miku eyed the clear blue water. "Can I...?"

"By all means."

The tealette peeled off her socks, hoping that Luka would keep her eyes closed. Those socks had been on for longer than she cared to admit, traveling with her in a plane over the Pacific. Simply taking them off was an absolute relief, to such an extent that it was almost embarrassing.

Slowly, she dipped her feet in the water and immediately understood why Luka had made a beeline for the pool. The water was cool, refreshing, and her feet had been aching from walking between the guests, the dancing.

She also let out a sigh.

"Oh man, this is a treat," she murmured.

"I would invite you for a swim, but it would not be wise." The chain between their wrists rattled on the stone ledge as she adjusted her position, letting the water reach halfway up her calves. Miku let her eyes linger for a second before closing them.

"Plus, I don't have a swimsuit."

"Plus, you cannot get changed at all."

They shared a quiet chuckle. Now that Miku actually listened, she could barely hear the faint echo of music over the gentle lapping of the water. She breathed deeply, and heard Luka do the same.

The air was warm and comforting. There was a gentle, cautious wind. Nothing more.

"You think we could lie down?" Miku asked.

"If you do not mind stone on your back, you are welcome to."

Miku opened an eye, looked at the other woman's backless dress. Gently, without moving too much or making too much noise, taking her time, Miku took her jacket off her left arm and slowly turned the sleeve around her right arm inside-out. "Here."

Luka opened her eyes and looked at her, and slowly understood what Miku had done. "Oh... Thank you."

She took the jacket, fully folded it inside-out to drape it over her shoulders, and in tandem they both leaned back to rest on the stone tiles.

Miku stretched as best as she could with one arm to let her muscles relax. "This is nice."

"It is."

Miku heard, besides the water, the music, and the wind, the quiet rustle of fabric: Luka was feeling the jacket.

"This is real leather," the taller woman observed.

"It is. My dad got it for me as a graduation present."

"It is a beautiful jacket."

"It is. Sorry if it smells like work, though. Oil and long days, stuff like that."

A short pause, then Luka muttered, "It smells fine."

Miku glanced at the other woman, felt the texture of the stone beneath her right hand. "You know... I didn't think you looked like a dyke."

Luka snorted. "Excuse me? Well, I think you do look like one!"

"I am a dyke, so that's fair."

The taller woman faltered. "Oh." Then, after a pause, "You do not mind that word?"

"What, dyke? It's just a word." When Luka didn't immediately reply, Miku continued, "If it does bother you, I'll say something else, though. You got a preference?"

Luka didn't reply for a few moments. "I am not sure I am comfortable with any of them. I am not entirely comfortable talking about it altogether."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Meiko brought it up so freely, I thought—"

"No, you are correct. It is an open secret between us all. But I am supposed to inherit my dad's company, his business, everything. He wants me to marry a nice rich man. Someone who will add to the fortune and who looks good standing next to me in newspaper pictures. Someone who will help me make babies who, in turn, will inherit the fortune."

"Oh."

"I am not used to talking about it, that is all."

Miku nodded slowly. "Alright. I'm sorry I mentioned it. I was just poking a bit of fun."

"It is alright." Luka hesitated again, before saying, "I am glad to at least meet another person like me."

Miku thought about it for a while. "Right, I guess I can see that."

"That I would be happy?"

"No, that you've never even met another, uh, well, another one like us. You're scared and paranoid enough making friends, I can't even imagine how you'd handle romantic prospects. Add daddy's unhappiness that two women can't pop a new baby into existence, and I get that you haven't really shopped around a lot."

Luka sighed. "You actually get it."

"Nobody else does?"

"I have not talked about this with many people."

"Right, right..."

"What about you?"

"To be honest, I'm just busy as all hell. Earlier, I lied to Meiko just a bit, saying it didn't interest me at all."

"I noticed."

Miku chuckled. "I figured you would, and that you'd ask. You know, sometimes a customer comes in and I think she's just the picture of beauty, but what can I do?"

"Does your dad know?"

"He probably thinks I'm gonna be forever celibate at this point. Sometimes I feel like he tries to encourage me to go out, but I put the garage first. He might just cheer if I brought anybody of a reasonable age home, no matter who it would be."

"That is sweet."

"I'm sorry you have to be so afraid. You shouldn't have to be."

Luka smiled warmly. "I am sorry you have to be so mindful of your time."

Miku returned the smile, before gazing up at the sky. It was pitch-black, only a handful of stars to be seen. But she appreciated the lack of distraction. The less there was, the better.

Miku grinned. "All that said, if Lily isn't at least bi-curious, I'll eat my jacket."

They laughed quietly, their voices carried over the water only to die in the bushes surrounding them.

"Even though you are so busy," Luka whispered. "Do you ever dream? Of doing something new? Of going somewhere else?"

"Hm. Well, sometimes..." Miku stopped herself, but decided to continue nonetheless. "Sometimes I wonder if opening my own garage would be a good idea."

"A new one?"

"Yeah. Car mechanics is all I know. That, and some music. I'm good with my hands and with moving parts and that's pretty much it. But my dad keeps putting all the extra money in new, borderline useless crap. I bet if I find another place, with a bit more road traffic, in a nicer neighbourhood, I could get three times as much revenue with a fraction of the tools. Maybe we could partner up, and he'd help for the few things for which we really do need those machines. Or maybe I could do bodywork instead... I just want to break that cycle: I know we're lucky enough to have the possibility to get out of it, I'm just pissed my dad always squanders it."

"Have you ever talked about it with him?"

"I've considered that too. But I know he only does it because he wants to help. I'd hate to tell him that effort was a waste. Better sooner than later though, I suppose."

Luka nodded, pensively. "It might be worth bringing up when you get home."

"Ha. 'Hey dad, happy to be home, how was work all on your lonesome? By the way, you're an idiot.'"

"Not like that of course."

"Of course," Miku laughed. "But it might take some time. Maybe during a lunch break. After a lunch break."

"Why after?"

"People are happier after they've eaten."

"Oh."

"What about you? What do you dream of doing?"

"I am not sure Something else, in any case. Anything else."

"Anything?"

"I am so fucking rich, you have no idea."

Miku couldn't help but laugh, and Luka joined, if somewhat half-heartedly. "Sorry, it was just hilarious to hear you put it like that."

"It is true, though!" Luka said between chuckles. "My savings and investments alone have me set for life. I am not dependant on dad's money, I am not even sure why I stay. Probably because he gives me something to do. But if I were to want to do anything else..." She sighed. "I could go anywhere. Do anything. But I always get stuck on the details when I think about it. I often dream of setting up a small shop somewhere, but I do not know what I could sell. Maybe I could work in retail, but I cannot decide between clothing or food."

"I've heard that working in catering is some of the worst jobs you could have."

"It might still be worth experiencing, though. At this point, I would take anything...real. Anything tangible. At this point I am sitting here, learning how to better make my money make more money for me while my money actively continues to make money for me. I do not really know what it is like to work for anything."

"It sure can be rewarding."

"How does it feel, to open a car up, to pull it apart and put it back together, and to have it run again?"

"It's amazing," Miku admitted with a smile. "We don't always have to totally pull it apart, but even then, to have'em come back to life? You can finally breathe."

Luka sighed. "I dream to feel something like that. To see a result of my work."

"What about your studies, though?"

"That was as close as I have ever gotten. However, to be honest, what are numbers? I went to school because everybody in my family went there and because I was bored. Whether I failed or not, I would still be wealthy. Those grades are a hollow result of half-hearted effort."

"I guess I can see that."

Luka cleared her throat. "I might romanticise the dream of a normal life a lot. I can admit that to myself, but it only makes me fear of what could happen if I were to ever make the jump. The culture shock, the change in habits, I have no way to know how ready I am for that."

"Only way to figure out is to try. And even if it doesn't work out, you could always get yourself a whole new palace."

"I could. I honestly could."

"Your money is yours, right? Like, your own account and stuff?"

"Yes."

"Well, what do you have to lose, then? Say you make the leap, move out and live like a regular person, and your dad hates and disowns you for it or something. If you get used to it, fantastic: no need to keep people from your house to hide that you're loaded, no need to put away the crystal glasses and silver cutlery. And if you don't, take the money that's yours and live life how you want it."

Luka considered her words for so long, Miku started regretting saying so much. "I mean, I understand that getting your parents to hate you is a terrible thing. It took me years to cope with the fact that my mom literally left me behind. And maybe there's more to it—"

"I think I will do it."

"Huh?"

"I think I may just do that," Luka said, quietly. "I must be honest, there is no better time than now, I think. After the wedding, all of our friends are going to go back to their jobs, including you. Meiko will go on her honeymoon. I have nothing else to do. I might do it."

"If you want. You're more than capable."

"I am."

"Either way, I support you. I'll be far away and have no way of contacting you, but I support you."

Luka smiled softly, which made Miku grin as well. They shared a comfortable silence, Miku basking in the feeling of the cool water, the hard stone and the warm air all at once. Luka closed her eyes too, also breathing in the night, feeling the next-to-nothing all around them.

As per usual, Luka broke the silence, but this time with only a whisper. "You mentioned music."

Miku started. "I did?"

"Yes. You said you knew mechanics and music, nothing else."

"Oh. I shouldn't have mentioned it. Sorry."

Luka opened her eyes. "Is something wrong?"

"Well..." Miku cleared her throat. "If you want to know, you have to promise that you won't tell Meiko."

"I do not have to know. It is fine."

Miku slowly sat up, stared at the water. After a moment, she said, "I played a bit of guitar. Meiko got me into it, and for my tenth birthday, my dad got me one. He'd just gotten sober, too, so it meant a lot. It meant that he was 'back', in a way. In evenings, before bed, I practiced a bit. I've never gotten extraordinarily great at it. But it made me happy. Got my mind off of things."

"I can imagine."

"I sold it so I could make it here. Yesterday I realized I most likely didn't have the money needed. So I took it to a pawn shop, took the cash, and went straight to the airport. Turns out, the extra money made all the difference. It's the only reason why I could make it, with thirty to spare."

Luka sat up slowly, thought for a long while. "I won't tell Meiko."

"Thank you."

"Why did you tell me?"

"I don't know. I think because I know my dad realized by now that it's gone. He's going to want an explanation. Or, it's 'cause I want to get back at you a bit for being so mean," she teased, sticking out her tongue, but Luka didn't seem humored. "Sorry. It might just be because it feels good to get it off my chest, I guess. Before my dad yells at me for it. It was worth it though."

"It was?"

"Yeah. I'm here now, thanks to it."

"You sacrificed your only daily comfort for memories of two days."

"Meiko's my best friend: I wouldn't have missed this for the world. That includes my guitar."

Luka sighed heavily, and Miku realized she looked like she was about to cry. "I am sorry."

"Hey, it's ok. I didn't... I didn't think you'd be so sensitive about it."

"I can give so easily. But to be here, you had to sacrifice. I do not know what that even means, to sacrifice something. And to think I was actively squandering it. It..."

Miku wanted to pat her on the back or something, but with their hands bound, it wasn't possible. "It's alright. I'll work hard and try to buy it back: I asked the pawn shop guy to keep it for a little while. I'll have to repay it plus interest, but all it'll cost me is a few months of work. So really, it's alright in the long-term."

Luka nodded slowly. "If you say so."

They stared at the blue water for a moment, Miku trying to imagine how her dad would greet her home, how mad he'd be. How was she going to criticize his spending on top of that? She chuckled to herself: it would be chaos. But she'd take it a day at a time.

"Follow me," Luka suddenly said.

"Where are we going?"

"Inside. I think the music stopped."

She was right: that faint echo was no longer to be heard. Miku picked up her socks as they stood, then they carefully turned around and headed back to the house. Their shoes were gone, and the hostess explained that they had most likely been placed by the front door. Inside, they found two pairs of bath sandals. Miku put hers on eagerly: the material was synthetic, made to dry quickly, though it was soft and warm nonetheless.

The house was eerily quiet.

"They've probably gone to sleep," Miku muttered.

"Most likely. Someone will have shown them their rooms."

"What about cleanup?"

"It is all being taken care of, no worries."

Luka lead the way back to the immense stairwell, and Miku followed her up. On the second floor, the hostess said, "Everybody's rooms, as well as your intended room, are all here."

"Alright."

When the taller woman didn't head back for the stairs and instead started down one of the halls, Miku stammered, "Uhm, I thought we agreed to—"

"I just wanted to show you something."

"Ok..."

Luka talked a bit about how the floors were organized. The rooms down the hall closest by the stairs had different contents than the parallel halls. The bedrooms were there, for example, because they had windows facing the southeast, and would be greeted by the morning light. But the other halls had other rooms for other purposes.

"Because of our means and the large amounts of time we have, my parents and I are all collectors to some degree. My mother does art and antiques, my father is more fond of small things: stamps, medals and coins. Their collections are located here in specialized rooms, away from the sun and walls connected to the outdoors. Like that, the rooms' conditions are fully controlled and personalized, each with their own air conditioning, lights, and so on. Whatever the objects require, essentially."

"Huh."

"I have not chosen any specific kind of thing to hunt down myself. I am not even sure collecting is something that rewards me personally. Nevertheless, over the past couple of years, I simply followed their example and collected, well, stuff."

She stopped at a door, which was equipped with a keypad. She typed in a short code, the door clicked open, and without any further ceremony, they entered.

The room was dark at first, but quickly lit up when the motion detectors picked up on their presence. And there, along the far wall of the room, each encased in glass, was a full collection of guitars.

Miku stopped so quickly she almost made Luka fall backward.

"Don't you dare do what I think you're going to do," she hissed at the taller woman.

The hostess frowned, clasped her hands in front of her. "I am afraid I can afford to dare it."

Miku shook her head, even as the taller woman approached the collection. Together, they slowly walked along them, taking in the sight of each instrument.

There were only eight of them. Though Miku knew nothing about high-end guitars, their brands, fabrication year, special materials, she could tell that they were expensive, immaculate, and maybe even one-of-a-kind. One even sported a signature in glittering gold ink.

When they reached the end of the lineup, she gulped heavily. "They're very nice."

"They are."

"They're electric guitars, though. Fancy things, require a lot more hardware."

"Not all of them."

Luka was right: towards the end of the row, two of the fancy guitars were acoustic. Miku almost couldn't tell since they looked so new and sparkling, but the big chamber they each sported was the most obvious tell. Miku's fingers curled and twitched as her eyes ran up and down the strings, over the fretboard.

"Would you like to play one?"

Miku shook her head. "Those things? No. They're..."

"Do you have a favorite?"

"Christ Luka, I don't even play that good."

"I do not play at all."

Miku stared at the guitars, the taller woman's gaze weighing heavy on her.

"But why?" she finally managed to whisper.

"These instruments deserve to be owned by someone who can appreciate their every aspect, not only their appearance."

"But why give them to me?"

"I said so earlier: because I can."

"You don't get it: why me? I'm just a random lass you met and despised hours ago."

Luka shrugged. "You need it more than I do."

"I can't."

"You need to understand: these guitars, they do not really mean anything to me. I like looking at them, but I could buy twenty more in a heartbeat if I wanted to. And I still would not play them. You sacrificed something dear to you simply to be here."

"These won't replace mine."

"They might: you could sell one for money to buy the original one back, or even trade directly."

Miku did a double-take. "You'd give me one of these just to make sure I get my shitty, moldy guitar?"

Luka shrugged again. "If it would make you happy. If it would away the heavy cost of coming here."

"...I can't even take this home. I'd need a case, and check it in. I don't—"

"I will have someone I trust bring it to you: please do not worry about how much it would cost."

Miku breathed deeply. "You're seriously doing this?"

Luka merely smiled. "So, do you have a favorite?"

She did, and she couldn't lie to herself. The second one, closest to the adjacent wall, was made of rich, dark wood, with a golden floral pattern drawn over it. The fretboard was adorned with silver, the pins black as night.

It wasn't her guitar, but it was a sight to behold nonetheless.

"That one," she confessed.

Luka gently opened the glass door and picked up the instrument, Miku following her movements with her right hand so she wouldn't hold her back. When the taller woman turned, handing the collector's item to her, she could only oblige wordlessly. This time, it was Luka's turn to follow her movements with her hand, letting her guest admire it, feel its weight, the way the strings bent under her fingers.

"It's not tuned," the tealette quietly muttered, feeling the strings without making them sing. "They're way too slack."

"I did not want to tire them."

"Is that a thing?"

"I figured: bows are unstringed to make sure they do not get worn, no?"

"I haven't the slightest clue..."

Slowly, Luka following the movements of her hand with her own, Miku tuned the guitar, filling the room with notes, off at first, but soon they all sang in harmony. Then the tealette played a few simple chords, and the room echoed far too much, but she wanted to cry nonetheless.

"God, it actually sounds great."

"It does," Luka conceded, sounding somewhat surprised as well.

"I can't do this." Miku moved to return the guitar to Luka, but she didn't move.

"But I can. Don't you see?"

"I'm not sure."

Luka gently pushed the guitar back, making sure Miku couldn't try to hand it to her. "Giving this away means nothing to me. I've given all my life. You sacrificed to be here, and I can barely get acquainted with that feeling; giving is all I can do." When the tealette still didn't seem convinced, she continued, saying, "Even if parting with this would break my heart, I will simply get another one. But this will make you happy, and that is what matters to me. This is an effortless, almost hollow gesture from me, I promise."

Miku sighed. "I don't..."

"Keep it. Trade it. Sell it. It does not matter: if I can somehow help you get your only comfort back, then that would be the best thing I would do all evening." A sad smile crept over her features. "If that is not enough, then consider it an apology for ruining this trip for you."

The tealette's grip on the instrument slowly tightened as she mulled over those words. "I think I can accept that."

"Excellent. Let's put it back for now: I will have Leon pack it up and bring it to you in a few days."

"If you insist..."

Still somewhat dumbfounded, Miku returned the guitar to its pedestal as gingerly as she could before Luka closed the glass door. In the short amount of time it was exposed to the world, Miku could already spot some dust on the sleek surface, and some humid handprints.

Nonetheless, she could only whisper, "It's beautiful."

"It suits you."

Miku nodded, admired it for another moment, before they slowly turned around, both going to the left in unison. They left the room without another word.


	4. Grasp

Wordlessly, they made their way up the last flight of stairs and to Luka's room. While they walked, Miku took in the ever-glorious surroundings, but found that she could no longer feel disdain for it. Her mind was still spinning around the guitar, the strings, all of it. Unlike her old guitar, it felt strong in her grip, and the sound it produced was full and strong. Different strings, different wood, she didn't know the specifics but she knew those things mattered somehow.

She didn't know much of anything about it, and worst of it all was that she had no idea how valuable it really was. She guessed she could ask Luka for its value, especially if she wanted to sell it for a cozy sum, but her heart ached at the thought of simply trading the instrument in. She tried to rationalize that Luka truly wouldn't care if she sold it or not, since she had gifted it to her so effortlessly, but something in her mind stuck. She'd never had that luxury: how could she even conceive the ability to simply give something up?

She was startled out of her thoughts when Luka cleared her throat.

"Huh?"

"This is yours."

Luka had turned her leather jacket back right side out and was trying to give it back to her as best as she could. Miku shrugged it back on, mute.

"Could you look away?" the taller woman whispered when Miku stayed put.

Only then did the tealette realise where they were standing: in front of Luka's walk-in closet, where a modest pajama set had been prepared.

"Oh, right. Sorry."

Miku averted her eyes, before remembering that Luka was a bit more of a timid type, and hiding her eyes altogether in the crook of her left elbow. She dared look again only when Luka shyly said, "It's ok now."

It was...sort of. She was wearing knee-length pants of a light fabric, perfect for the fall season, and while the shirt she was wearing didn't have proper sleeves, there was a strap that went over each shoulder: the one for her left shoulder was stuck under her arm.

"That's fine," Miku muttered.

"Are you sure?"

"It's not like we're going to be ogling each other all night," the tealette decided on answering. "We'll close our eyes and go to sleep, simple as that."

"Right... Do you think you could sleep like that?"

Miku looked at herself. "The jacket and shirt stay, I got no say in that," she shrugged. "I could probably use a fresh pair of pants, though."

"I am sure I have one pair that should fit you..." Luka mused out loud, diving into the closet and dragging the tealette along.

The inside of the closet was a treasure trove of clothes. Miku let her eyes wander over the stacks of shirts and pants, sweaters and dresses. They were sorted by color, and if Miku guessed right, also by weather: the shirts more suited for cold weather were separate from the linen, short-sleeved shirts; shorter pants were grouped together, next to the longer jeans; summer dresses had their own section, away from the pencil skirts, and away from the party gowns.

As they kept walking, she saw socks, and then the pajamas. Luka started searching, and Miku kept looking, until her eyes found the various forms of underwear. Once again remembering her host's shyness, she cast her eyes to the ground, waiting patiently.

"I know it probably looks like a lot," Luka suddenly said, sounding sheepish.

"Ah, yeah. It's quite the collection."

The taller woman hummed. "It must look ridiculous."

"What? Oh, not really. If I could own this many spare shirts, I would. It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"It is not so much embarrassing as it is humbling," Luka admitted. "You are wearing the last pair of pants you own and—"

"We're from different walks of life," Miku softly reminded her. "This isn't a competition or anything."

The woman didn't seem convinced and kept rifling through the collection, her nose deep in the pile.

"This really isn't anything special," Miku insisted. "You've been dragging me through your palace all night long while I'm wearing second-hand stuff. Don't need to start feeling guilty now, if ever."

Luka sighed. "I am thinking of how easy it would be for me to part ways with most everything here."

"If you gift me a wardrobe I'll strangle you with your own pantyhose."

"I would never dare."

"You wouldn't?"

Her movements slowed. "Such a donation would be little more than an insult to you. You are self-sufficient for these necessities. If I were to start pandering to every one of your tiniest needs now, it would all mean nothing."

"You're damn right."

"I won't—"

A call came from the room, something Miku couldn't quite catch. Luka merely nodded, resumed the search, and pulled out a pair of pajama pants. The waist had an elastic band, allowing it to fit to Miku's smaller frame.

Before the guest could ask what the call was about, Luka quietly said, "I'll look away."

She did, practically sticking her face right into the small stack of neatly-folded scarves. Miku smiled softly to herself as she quickly got changed, not exactly caring whether Luka saw anything or not. Maybe it did cross her mind a bit that she wasn't exactly the picture of feminine beauty, that she was sorely out of place in that closet, that her legs weren't shaved and her underwear wasn't lace, or even new, but she didn't have time to worry about that.

Once done, she signaled the other woman and they made their way back to the main bedroom.

Snapped out of her thoughts, Miku could actually take it in once again. The whole room still looked surprisingly humble compared to the rest of the household, even more so compared to the lavish closet. However, it was now illuminated by a soft orange glow from the nightstand lamp, a luminescence that hardly touched the far reaches of the room.

"Leon has brought a fan."

Miku almost had to ask where the fan was, before she realized that a strange tower, the likes of which she had never seen before, was the fan in question. It was set to the right of the bed, not far from the nightstand.

"Oh, that's nifty."

"The remote control is on the nightstand, so you won't have to get out of bed if you'd want to turn it on or off."

A remote-controlled fan? Miku scoffed quietly to herself, following the taller woman into the bathroom. Like the one they had visited downstairs, it was oversized to the point that it looked empty, despite the ornate bathtub, the large shower, the comparatively small-looking toilet and positively massive countertop around the sink. Almost no makeup could be found here: Miku figured it was all by the boudoir, where the hairpins were. Instead, there was a small selection of bottles, small boxes, a hairbrush, toothbrush and toothpaste, and a few towels. It looked deserted.

Miku figured they could brush their teeth and go to sleep, but instead Luka armed herself with a small pad of cotton from one of the boxes, and a bottle full of clear liquid.

"What's that?"

"Makeup remover."

"Oh right, you're wearing that stuff."

The taller woman chuckled as she gently washed her face. Her movements were swift, precise, but careful and practiced. Miku watched her closely, curious, with nothing better to do other than move along as best as she could.

She might never see this again, she realized. Never again see someone remove the makeup from their face.

The intimacy struck her all of a sudden. She had to move along with her arm, since Luka's dominant left did all the cleaning, and while it had a slightly worn, comedic feeling to it, merely being there to witness this ritual actually made Miku feel like a real outsider. Not just to the lifestyle or the geographical location, but to Luka's own, personal life. She figured that Luka would do this in secret, away from her friends, and even from any eventual partner she'd find. Only after a year or two, maybe, would she let her eventual girlfriend witness this.

In a way, it felt like Luka was undressing. She wasn't really, and maybe Miku was being foolish and ignorant, maybe girls removed their makeup in front of each other all the time. She didn't know. She had no idea. She could only stare, captivated.

Soon enough, Luka was done, the cotton discarded and the bottle sealed. Before Miku could find anything to say, the other woman handed her a toothbrush, still wrapped in plastic. When they found that they would both try to brush with their respective cuffed hands, they chuckled.

"You go first," Luka said, offering her the tube of toothpaste. "I got to drag you around for the last couple of minutes, it is only fair."

Miku obliged, watching out of the corner of her eye as Luka brushed her hair with her right hand. When the tealette was done, Luka brushed her teeth and Miku brushed her hair with her left. It was silly to watch, and they chuckled a few times, but there was still something strangely intimate about it. Miku couldn't pin down if she was embarrassed, humbled, or simply thankful. She knew that the sudden gift of the guitar still played into it, but there was something about sharing a space she'd never shared before that was strange.

Despite the thoughts, she had to remain aware enough to maintain the harmony that they had managed to find. When they were done brushing their teeth, Miku washed her face while Luka cleared the countertop. Then Luka attempted to braid her own hair, before Miku simply stepped in and helped her. She didn’t have a ton of practice with braiding, but she was good with her hands, and Luka didn’t seem to mind when she fumbled.

"Why braid your hair?"

"So it will not get as knotted overnight. It will also make it a lot easier to deal with tomorrow morning," Luka explained. "Plus, depending on the humidity, it might get nice waves for a little while."

"Huh, fancy."

"Would you like to try?"

Miku paused, took in the sight of her battered hands holding pink tresses. The end of a bandage stuck out from under her sleeve. Then, slowly, she finished the braid. "I guess so."

It was Luka's turn to work on her hair, and Miku silently watched her in the mirror, saw how her eyes were focused on the task at hand. She gulped, feeling a bit silly with her right arm up like that, feeling a bit embarrassed to be there in her leather jacket while her hostess was in nothing more than her pajamas.

Even with the red dress off, the red lipstick gone, she still looked like a sculpture. Her features were less harsh than the makeup had suggested. The curves of her face were graceful and elegant, looking less like a lioness on the prowl, but one basking in the sun. The strong muscles the LEDs had revealed were hidden under her relaxation, visible only when she lifted her arm, when she turned her head to pick up a hair tie. Something about the small smile that played on her lips as she braided, the slight furrow in her brow, made Miku's heart skip slightly.

"Something the matter?"

Miku blinked, realized Luka had been staring back at her for a little while in the mirror. "Was just thinking."

"About what?"

"I thought makeup was all about making people look prettier. But you just kind of look the same."

To her surprise, Luka seemed bashful. "Am I supposed to interpret that as a criticism of my makeup skills?"

"What? No. Just saying that I don't really see the point if you're pretty either way."

After some silence, Luka quietly replied, "Thank you."

Miku fidgeted, unsure if saying that had been a good idea, unsure of what to do. Something had changed since they'd first stepped into the overly-bright room, but it was difficult to figure out what.

Luka cleared her throat, and just like that, the tone shifted entirely. "Uhm, do you need to...go?"

Miku rolled her eyes, the spell entirely broken. "Let's get this over with."

Somehow, they did, and before one in the morning they were both finally ready for bed. Getting in bed itself was a new, somewhat tricky affair because of the cuffs but with some scooting they were eventually both tucked in, lights out, wishes of a good night exchanged. Then, it was finally truly quiet for the first time that night.

Miku sighed, feeling all the events from the previous day weigh deep in her bones. Everything, from the rushed trip to the airport, to the flight, the party, the fights, the conversations, the emotions, it all rested somewhere under her ribs, up to a strange swell in her throat.

She considered the feelings carefully. She knew that she was somewhat upset: the evening hadn't gone the way she had hoped it would. Even if she had agreed to meet with Meiko for lunch the following day, the whole evening of catching up she'd dreamed of was gone and far, far away.

She knew she was thankful: she had sacrificed the guitar to get there, but received another one in return. But this also made her lost: what to do with the new guitar? Sell it for the highest price as soon as possible, get her old one back, and open a new shop? Or keep it, let her old guitar become a precious toy for some other kid, and resume the status quo? Maybe she could do that, plus buy back her old guitar after some time.

Luka shifted next to her, startling her somewhat. The tealette wasn't used to sleeping with company. She swallowed thickly, returned to her thoughts.

She didn't know what else was there. Relief, probably, for making it to the party at all. Sadness, that she would have to leave in a little bit more than a day. But what else was there?

She opened her eyes, stared at the ceiling, soon hating how the intricate decorations and patterns became more and more visible as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She felt how her right hand rested on the mattress, a good foot away from the rest of her body, how the cuff pressed a little bit on the bandage, and felt the warmth from Luka's body slowly creeping over.

Slowly, Miku turned to look at her.

She hadn't really looked since their carefully navigated the bathroom trip. The tealette silently took in the new face she hadn't quite gotten to know yet, that strange swell rising in her throat. The fingers of her right hand scratched at the cover, but the thread count was so high her short nails simply glided over the surface.

There was some deep discomfort there, she figured. She grabbed for the remote on the nightstand, and after some effort, managed to get the fan to come to life. It was almost completely silent, which she appreciated, but already she missed the total quiet. She fiddled some more until she activated the rotation feature, then tried to focus on the feeling of the cool air slowly drifting down the length of the bed, then back up to her face.

She was warm. Warm in her shirt and jacket, warm between the high thread count sheets, warm with another body so close.

She wanted to move to her side, but she couldn't.

She wanted to leave, but she couldn't.

She still couldn't quite breathe. Still she felt the temperature rise the longer they stayed still, still she saw more details through the darkness, still she wanted to run, run far away.

Maybe she could kick a cover off.

Maybe she could simply close her eyes.

But maybe that wouldn't help.

"Miku?"

"Yeah?"

"You are still awake."

"Yeah."

"...Are you alright?"

"Just thinking about the fact that I'll be flying back soon."

"How long are you staying?"

"Tomorrow, and then I'm flying the following morning."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Not staying that long, really. And with lunch tomorrow with Meiko, and then her wedding afterwards, I think time will really fly by."

"I can imagine."

"I guess I just wished I had more time to catch up with Meiko. But it's... It's not going to happen."

"I am sorry." Then, after some silence, Luka rolled onto her side. "I am not sure how to ask this, but... Are you looking forward to going home?"

Miku hesitated. "Yes and no, I guess. It's more work, same old same old, but it's familiar. I know what to expect. All this is new territory: I've never traveled before, so sometimes all the changes make my head spin."

"Are things so different?"

Miku rolled on her side as well. "In the details, I guess. I'm happy there's no language barrier, at least. But the ads are different, the vehicle types are different, radio is different, and...yeah. Worst of all, flying is just awful."

"You had never flown before," Luka remarked.

"Never. It's terrifying."

"I suppose."

"I am not looking forward to the flight back. I'd even say it's the strongest factor keeping me here."

The hostess laughed, which elicited a chuckle from Miku. "Is it so bad?"

"Not that bad," the tealette confessed. "But it does scare me to death."

"I have never flown commercial myself," Luka admitted. "So all I can say is that it is probably the safest way to travel, statistically. You will be fine."

"You're right. The rational part of my mind knows that at least."

"What scared you the most?"

"Those infernal noises. The hissing and humming and roaring..."

"Those are scary."

"But I'll be fine."

"You will."

Luka looked at her for a little longer before rolling onto her back. The cuff tugged a little at Miku's wrist as she moved. After a minute, the tealette rolled back as well. She kicked off a corner of the covers and stuck a leg out, used her free arm to support her head. She let her foot dangle off the edge of the bed, even swung it to and fro a little, listened to the soft rustle of fabric it caused, to the quiet hum of the fan.

Just when she thought she might fall asleep, Luka spoke again.

"Are you alright?"

"What do you mean?"

Only after she spoke did Miku actually feel the feather-light touch on her wrist: the other woman had been so careful that the tealette hadn't even noticed or heard the chains rattle. After her question, the touch became more firm, but not any less careful. Suddenly, the bed felt even warmer: the leg dangling off the edge didn't seem to help, despite the fact that it felt colder than ever.

When Miku failed to reply, Luka specified, "Your wrist."

"Oh, uhm. Yeah. I almost don't feel it anymore."

Luka nodded, nearly imperceptible in the dark, but didn't move her hand. "That's good."

"It should heal quickly. It hurt like a bitch but it didn't look that bad."

"I hope so."

"And I'm used to these things, so..."

A quiet hum. "I noticed."

Miku stared at the ceiling, tense as a coil. In the darkness with nothing to see, she could only focus on the gentle grip on her arm. With picture-perfect clarity, she felt every finger around her wrist, the way her long nails slightly pushed into her skin. Worse yet, the grasp seemed almost tailor made, the bones of her forearm nestled perfectly in Luka’s hand. What really sent the tealette's mind spinning and pulled that swell back up into her throat, was the pointer finger that had strayed into her palm.

Luka moved to pull her hand away, and almost by pure reflex, Miku's fingers snapped up and caught the taller woman's pointer finger before she could slip away.

After a heartbeat, she opened her hand again, but the grip around her wrist had tightened.

"I'm sorry, if you want to let go—"

"I should have asked before—"

Miku chuckled, took a deep breath. "It's fine. I just didn't expect it, that's all."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Then, after a moment or two, she added, "It's nice."

The grip slowly loosened, back to the gentle caress it was at first. The fan continued to blow, Miku kept her leg sticking out of the covers, however they seemed to have no effect: a comforting warmth filled the tealette, just enough for her to feel it, just not enough for it to be a bother.

"You're ok, too?" she eventually asked.

"At moments, I am still remorseful for my earlier actions, but otherwise I am fine."

"I've let it go. You're more than forgiven."

"If you say so," was Luka's quiet reply, accompanied with a soft circling caress of her thumb over the bandage.

Miku suppressed a contented hum. She stared at the ceiling until the caress stopped, but Luka never withdrew her hand. The tealette resumed swinging her leg to and fro, opened her mouth to say something, stopped herself, listened to the fan for a minute, then turned her head to face the taller woman, finally attempted to speak again, stuttering along the way.

"Sorry, I'm not really good at this kind of stuff. If I need to do or say anything you're going to have to tell me."

"I am not good at this kind of stuff either," Luka quietly replied.

"God, we're a pair of total idiots."

"I suppose so. Do you want me to—"

"It's fine, it's fine. I'm just not used to this. I only ever spend time with my dad and we hug when we're happy and that's pretty much it. I don't know how to be nice to someone, or anything."

"Whatever you are comfortable with."

Miku fixed her eyes to the ceiling, mulling over the words. Comfortable with?

Rationally speaking, she wasn't comfortable with it in the slightest. She didn't want the closeness, the intimacy. She didn't want the emotions and the fallout they'd inevitably create.

But the sentimental part of her won over, and simply allowed her to close her eyes to bask in the feeling, nothing more. She savored having her wrist held, all while dreading the foreseeable consequences.

She knew she would have to pull her wrist back eventually. Either before they fall asleep, or after. Regardless, she knew they'd have to discuss it the next day: what did it mean, if anything?

She knew she was going to leave soon. It shouldn't mean anything. It couldn't.

She knew that she had to protest when that grip gradually slid downward to awkwardly grasp her hand, but told herself that Luka was probably falling asleep and nothing more.

After all, she was doing the same, and she simply didn't have the energy to say no.

* * *

Miku was pulled back to consciousness by overwhelming warmth. As she woke up, she felt the fabric of her shirt stick to her back, the inside of her jacket cling to her skin. Even her pajama pant stuck to her leg: only the one she'd stuck out from under the sheets seemed to be comfortable, and possibly only because the fan was still blowing cool air over her.

She groaned, noticing that she had rolled onto her right side sometime in the night. Her cuffed hand was no longer far from her body, but pulled up and close to her chest, with Luka's hand still loosely wrapped around it. Come to think of it, Miku thought she could feel skin with her fingers, but it wasn't her own.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, willing herself to fully wake up. She could see almost nothing, yet the whole situation became crystal clear to her nonetheless. Now, all the warmth, the skin she felt, the position she was in, and everything else made sense to her, and all she could do was groan again, this time in pure exasperation. Somehow, either she had gotten closer to Luka and managed to curl up against her, or Luka had gathered her in her arms to hold her. Maybe they were both to blame. Either way, she now realized that their hands were sandwiched between them, the skin she felt was Luka's shoulder, maybe her arm, and the warm mass around her was all of Luka.

She considered what to do. She flexed the fingers of her left hand, feeling the covers somewhere behind the taller woman; her arm was draped over her. If the weight on her side was any indication, her hostess had done the same to her too, effectively trapping her. Could she pull away? The other woman was profoundly asleep, it seemed. Miku waited, listened, not only heard but felt her breathe deep, regular breaths. She felt her chest rise and fall against her own, the warm exhales against the top of her head. Sometimes, a finger around her wrist twitched, but otherwise she could detect no movement.

God she was warm. Maybe they should have each had their own cover, Miku mused, baked by their collective warmth trapped under that high thread count blanket. She moved her leg to try to find a cool spot, only to brush it against Luka's. The taller woman muttered something, moved as well, but nothing more. The tealette tried again, got her foot free into the cooler air. A relief.

Miku huffed, wondered if she ought to try to escape altogether. Rationally, she knew she had to. There was nothing to gain from this. It was silly, temporary sentimentality that would only cause her pain in the long run. Plus, Luka was still asleep; if she were to get back to her half of the bed before she woke, then she'd never know they'd been in this position. That was, unless she consciously initiated this, but Miku doubted that the taller woman would do that to her. She knew how she felt about this kind of thing, knew that she would get angry if she'd dare.

The tealette closed her eyes, pulled her left arm back to her side. Luka definitely had her arm over her; gently, she tried to pick it up to push her away, but the dead weight of the limb made it difficult without waking the other woman up.

As she lay there, Luka's arm in her hand, Luka's hand around her arm, a small part of her whispered softly, soothingly, that this was alright. After all, she'd flown all this way only to see her best friend for two days, so the temporary sentimentality of it all was part of the deal. She knew she'd have a broken heart again after this trip, regardless of what else would happen. Maybe she could indulge in some intimacy, it told her. Maybe she could experience some genuine closeness. Maybe she could dare get a taste, just a small taste.

Miku faltered, hesitated for too long, let Luka's arm find its place around her waist. When she let her go, the taller woman muttered again and shifted away slightly, barely enough for a breath of air to come between them. Another relief, but now the pressure of her chin on the crown of Miku's head was more defined, and she could actually see beyond the throat and collar of her bedmate. A timid, grey sun shone outside, illuminating the room in a quiet, muted morning light.

The tealette wondered what to do with her hand: place it back over the other woman? Or let it rest between them? She decided on the latter before taking in the new sights.

Miku looked at how the shadows played over Luka's skin, how she moved as she breathed. Her eyes traced the almost invisible valleys between the muscles of her shoulder, down the sharp line of her collarbone, up her neck to her jaw. Vaguely, she remembered thinking that Luka's proximity was terrifying, but her sleeping form bathed in the soft light was anything but.

Luka sighed. Miku watched.

She wanted to get close again, even though she still felt warm. Maybe she just needed to leave entirely. Get out of that bed, that room, that house, the whole country.

She moved, heard the soft clink of the chain.

Right. She simply couldn't leave. She had to stay.

Miku couldn't believe she had forgotten.

Resigned, she settled back into the embrace, let her eyes drift closed. Her free hand between them scratched at the fabric again.

She wondered what time it was. How much time did they have left? Would it be enough?

Luka started: the embrace around the tealette tightened briefly, her breathing changed rhythm, and Miku could feel that she was looking around, trying to figure out what exactly had happened, just like the tealette had minutes before. After a tense handful of seconds, Miku felt the arm over her shift, and was surprised by how much she feared that the woman would withdraw from the hug.

Instead, the taller woman merely shifted around, letting her hand rest a little bit higher. She didn't move closer, she didn't tighten her grip around Miku's wrist, she didn't do anything really. Miku listened as her breathing slowed, but noticed that she could feel her heart beat loud and heavy in her chest.

Was Luka nervous, like she was? Was she anxious, ready for heartbreak? Was she scared of being discovered?

The rational part of Miku's mind practically screamed as the tealette threw all caution to the wind and used her free arm to return the embrace, to move closer, pushing herself into the crook of Luka's neck, back to where she was when she had first woken up. Maybe closer still, for now she could feel the taller woman's skin on her face, could feel her heart race not through vibrations in the bed but directly from her chest.

It was obvious she was awake, Miku admonished herself. But she couldn't care, right then. She had to, she hated that she had to, but she didn't want to. Simple as that.

"Miku?"

The tealette realized she had heard her name not only through the air, but directly from Luka's body, from the breath of air from her lungs, the vibrations on her throat, to the movement of her jaw against her skull.

"Don't say anything," she quietly replied, surprised to find her lips catch on the other woman's skin. She considered pulling back if just a bit, only to decide against it. "Don't convince me that this is a bad idea."

"...It is not," she answered, her voice soft and warm. "There is no need for it to be."

"What do we know," Miku muttered. "We're just two inexperienced lasses seeing hearts 'cause we finally found another dy— 'friend' in the wild."

Luka sighed, probably still groggy from sleep. Her voice was lower, huskier than it was the previous evening. "I am not certain that it is so simple."

"Sure it is. Only reason we spent as much time together as we did is because of these fucking cuffs."

"They allowed me to see past my prejudices, I will admit."

"And they forced me to get close to you when I never wanted to get to know anybody new in the first place," the tealette quietly seethed.

"Nonetheless, I rest my case," Luka insisted, punctuating her sentence with a light caress of her thumb over the bandage. "These cuffs are not entirely to blame."

Miku grumbled, remembering her lingering gazes throughout the evening. Had Luka done the same? Had she admired her from afar, had she wondered? Had she been delighted when Miku came out while they were by the pool, staring at the sky? Had she felt that same surprise, that same skip in the heart that the tealette had felt when Meiko outed her friend?

"There's no way to be sure," she simply replied, voice subdued.

"I suppose not. But there is no way to be certain this is a bad idea, either."

The tealette didn't answer, preferring to concentrate on the embrace. It was warm, maybe too warm, she didn't care.

"If you want to stop—"

"Don't move," Miku growled. "Let me have this, if only for a minute."

"...Of course."

Luka moved her free hand again, this time to tighten the hug around the tealette. Miku wanted to scold her for it, but bit her tongue; she was sending enough mixed signals as it was. She knew that she wanted to indulge in the intimacy without entertaining the idea of anything more, however there was no way to tell if Luka understood that.

It felt nice, though. Miku suppressed a contented sigh, fought tears, wanted nothing more than for this moment to last hours, days. To be surrounded, to be held close, to hide away from the world, its responsibilities, its nightmares, it was exactly what she needed at that moment, even if it were to make her weaker in the long run. She needed to experience it, and to experience it fully, to commit the minutes to memory so they may never slip away, so she could keep it close to her even years later. Even if she were to see Meiko and her friends in another ten, twenty, thirty years, she would have the memory of this morning to comfort her during the wait.

Was Luka doing the same? Did she also have her eyes closed, mind focused entirely on the moment? Was she also trying to note all that she felt and heard and smelled so she could recall it years down the road? Was she going to use this memory to help her in the upcoming years of loneliness, or in the eventual marriage her father desired so?

The thought broke Miku's heart.

"Curse you," she whispered.

"What? Why?"

Miku hesitated, but had heard the sincere surprise and, more importantly, distress in her voice. Finally, she spat out, "I'll miss you."

"Oh."

"I don't want to but I can tell I will."

Luka rubbed gentle circles on her back. "It's fine."

"Except it's not."

"I will come to visit."

"Don't give me that. Why would you?"

"I shall miss you, too. And I have nothing but time."

Miku sighed forcefully. "Don't make me hope. Don't make me wait for you to come. I don't want to hope, I don't want to wait. I can't do those things."

"Would..." The taller woman drifted off, uncertain. The movements of her free hand slowed to a stop. "Would it help if I took the guitar back?"

"No, it fucking wouldn't," Miku managed to push around the lump in her throat. "Make me miss the guitar too, won't you. And appreciate your consideration even more."

"I am...not sure what to do, then."

"There's nothing to do," the tealette confessed. She tightened her hug, without really wanting to. "I'm sorry. I just want to savor this. Then I need to learn how to deal with the fallout. You can't help it."

The hostess nodded. "I am sorry."

"Don't give me that."

"For everything. I have been nothing but a burden to you throughout this whole event."

"Yeah you have. You've grown on me like a fucking tumor."

"Do not worry: soon enough, they shall remove me with a pair of bolt cutters."

"Yeah, I guess."

The cuff felt heavier than ever before on her wrist. Miku gulped, suddenly unable to fully sink back into the embrace. She held the other woman tighter still, pressed against her, but couldn't return to how it was before. She wondered what Luka was thinking of her behavior.

"What time is it?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"A little after eight fifteen."

Miku sighed. "Do you think that we need to get ready?"

"Perhaps. If you would like to eat something. The others will not be awake for some time, though."

"So we might as well stay here until nine."

"We might as well."

"You wouldn't mind?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Alright. I figured you would've wanted to put on your makeup or something."

"Oh. I will not bother with that until the wedding."

"Good. That stuff's not really worth your time, anyway."

Luka chuckled softly. "Thank you."

"What for?"

The taller woman didn't reply right away, silently allowing the tealette to cling to her like a koala. Sometimes, she would continue to rub her back or wrist, but the motion always gradually slowed to a stop. Miku could feel her gradually tense up around her, hated how it made her concerned, how it made her want to ask.

Finally, Luka said, "You are very pretty, too."

Miku groaned. "Goddamnit, why did you have to go and say that?"

"Well— You complimented me, no?"

"Sure, but I meant it. No need to grasp at straws just for the sake of being even."

"I meant it," Luka insisted, but with a voice so quiet and subdued, Miku wasn't sure she heard it as much as she felt it. The hostess' body was tense, the grip around the tealette's waist almost too tight.

"You mean it," Miku meant to state, but her surprise sounded almost like a question.

"Of course. You have that cat-like, sharp and chiseled look. It is pretty. I— I like it."

"Oh." She hesitated for a second before adding, "Thank you."

And just like that, they both relaxed again. Miku mulled over the other woman's words, let her eyes drift shut, and allowed a warm happiness inside her to settle.

She swore she could have fallen asleep. She swore Luka was also drifting off, her comforting gestures becoming aimless and clumsy.

Part of her hoped that she'd go to sleep and that the morning could last forever. Nobody would come wake them, nobody would separate them, there would be nowhere else to go and nothing else to do.

The unstoppable passing of time had other plans; at nine, Luka's alarm went off. With a start that awoke them both, the taller woman rolled over and turned off the offending device.

Sunshine was now seeping through the curtains. Luka was shaking from the sudden surprise, Miku from the sudden cold. Worse yet, they were once again as far apart as the cuffs would allow.

The spell was broken. Miku's rational mind returned with a vengeance and she felt bitter, guilty, remorseful and —she'd never admit it— as close to heartbroken as she'd ever been. She shouldn't have given in to such foolish sentimentality, dangled such a tempting possibility before the both of them: now that they've had a taste, as faint as it might be, temptation would only be stronger than ever.

"We ought to go downstairs," she stated, her tone even, her eyes downcast. With the remote, she turned the fan off.

"...Yes."

Together, they maneuvered their way out of the bed. Miku changed back into her own pants, they both untied their hair, and Luka threw on a bathrobe. Once presentable, they made their way downstairs.

The house was even more detestable in daylight: the sun had an entirely different effect on the sparkling gold and rich colors, making it all shine more, shine brighter. Miku could barely see anything even after giving her eyes time to adjust, squinting the whole way to the kitchen.

Nobody was there yet. Luka sighed, Miku kept her eyes on the floor.

"Now what?" she asked.

"We wait," the hostess replied. "Would you like tea or coffee?"

"Tea would be nice."

With the same cooperation from the previous night, they navigated the kitchen to get the water to boil, prepare the teapot, select an infusion before pouring hot water over it.

Then they had to wait for that to steep. They leaned against the countertop, the metal of the chain clinking lightly against the marble surface, and stared at the various cupboards, trying to find in them something meaningful to say.

In vain.

Miku couldn't ignore that they weren't so careful with their hands as the previous night. While they once went through dramatic effort to keep as far apart as possible, that morning their fingers sometimes brushed, although neither of them brought it up.

What was there to say?

After a few tense minutes, they removed the tea, Luka poured them each a mug, Miku added some sugar for herself. They stuttered excuses at each other when they both wanted to drink with their dominant limb, and eventually Miku convinced the other woman that she would also use her left hand; her wrist still hurt a bit, after all.

Then all they could do was drink in silence. At one point, one of Luka's staff walked by, regretfully informed that no key was found during cleanup, proudly reported that everything was effectively cleaned up, and sadly no, nobody had knocked on the door that morning.

And, right on cue, then the doorbell rang.

"Finally," muttered the tealette, putting down her mug.

Luka also put aside her drink and together they walked towards the front door, but the groom's parents met them halfway there. She seemed tired, if happy, and he seemed positively well-rested.

"Hey Luka," he greeted her, carefree despite the bathrobe. Maybe they were all so close that this was normal. Miku kept her eyes downcast. "Sorry for being late."

"It is no problem."

"So, how did this happen, anyway?" he asked, his eyes darting between the hostess and her guest. "Was this some kind of party trick?"

"Doesn't matter, get us out," Miku snapped, holding their bound wrists out.

He chuckled. "Alright, alright, let's be careful about this, though."

The man, who was actually terrifyingly tall, carefully snapped the chain with equally terrifying cutters. Miku didn't know where he'd found those but they were massive, and cut through the metal like butter.

When the chain was broken, Miku took a step away from Luka, moved her arm. It was strange, to suddenly be able to move it around freely. She tested her range of motion, the feeling alien, vaguely reminding her of walking on solid ground after half an hour on Meiko's trampoline.

"You coming?"

Miku looked up, seeing the groom's mother. Up close, Miku could see that her clothes were casual, her hair slightly damp; she'd showered and gotten changed. The other two, however, were walking down the hall.

"Where?"

"He's going to cut the cuff from your wrist," the woman gently explained. "But he'd prefer if we were all sitting down."

Miku nodded dumbly. It made sense, to be so careful with cutters like that. She followed the older woman down the hall, and into a room. It was large, freakishly so, and sparkling and blinding and ugly as sin but at least they could sit. Luka was already in an armchair, the tall man kneeling before her.

She watched as the man carefully placed the blades around the cuff around Luka's wrist. Then, with a slow, determined movement, cut right through them. After putting the cutters aside, the shackle slid out of the sheath like magic, the gentle clicking the only sound in the room.

The taller woman rubbed her wrist. Miku watched.

"Your turn!"

Mute, the tealette obliged. She recognized the armchair: this room was the party room from the previous evening. She never would have guessed.

"Don't think we've met before," the man said, still jolly.

"I'm Miku."

"You're a friend of Meiko's, I take it," he said, repeating the procedure. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise."

"Please be careful," Luka suddenly spoke up. "She is hurt."

Miku scowled, but said nothing as the man observed, noticed the bandage, and chuckled. He promised to be careful, cut through the steel, then pried apart what was left.

She was free.

Miku stood as soon as she could, hand around her wrist. It was a bizarre feeling. To be untethered, to watch Luka walk away without having to follow half a step behind, was completely alien to her. It was strange to have that dull pain around the wrist, without the thing that caused it still near. She eyed the twisted bits of metal before the man scooped them up.

"All done," he declared proudly.

"Thank you for coming over so early," Luka said, speaking to him with a familiarity Miku envied. "Would you like to stay for breakfast?"

"Aw, no thanks," he said with a big, toothy grin. "Gonna go eat with my boy and his pals."

"I'll be joining him," his wife said. "We have our own wedding preparations to see to, after all."

"Of course."

Miku didn't pay attention to the rest of the conversation and simply left. After all, she could leave now, without a constant pull and tug and tease from that infernal chain. She could simply walk away, nothing pulling her another way, nobody keeping her back. She retrieved her tea, left the kitchen, and wandered, hoping to find that one small room they'd visited the day before with the nice desk lamp.

If Meiko wasn't awake, then she wanted no company whatsoever.


	5. Sorrow

Miku found a nice room and finished her tea. Then she waited for half an hour, until the small clock hanging from the wall chimed three times: quarter to ten. After that, all she had to do was follow the voices in the hall. Everybody was awake, dressed, and making jolly conversation in a room she wasn't sure she'd ever seen before, a dining room of sorts. The morning light shone in through sheer curtains and floor-to-ceiling windows. Flowers outside bloomed, their petals shining with dew.

It was a gentler sight than the rest of the mansion. It was even easier on the eyes than seeing her best friend conversing with others with an ease Miku had only ever felt while looking at car parts. A slight bitterness filled her: they knew one another, there was no denying it. But what did Miku know? Who did she really know?

She filled the one empty seat at the table, far from her friend, and served herself some food. Like the previous evening, there was an abundance of choice and it was all delicious. She also lacked appetite.

She needed a shower, a fresh set of clothes. She needed to go home.

"Miku," Meiko whispered, sitting down next to her. Places had been traded while the tealette hadn't been paying attention. "You alright?"

"I guess so. You?"

"I'm ecstatic!" the brunette beamed. "I'm getting married today, I can hardly believe it!"

Miku smiled, noted happily that nobody else was partaking in their conversation. "Can't wait to be there."

"Ah, but we have lunch together first, just you and me," Meiko winked at her. "I was drunk, but not so much that I forgot!"

"I'm glad."

Meiko sipped from a crystal glass, her uncontainable joy contagious. "Now, tell me. You two disappeared last night. Luka told me you two shared a room?"

"There wasn't exactly any other choice."

"Right, right... I'm sorry again, about all that. I just wanted to make sure you two actually got to talking, instead of glaring at each other all evening."

Miku refrained from telling her that, had her plan worked as intended and they had been separated too early, it would have only served to make them hate one another even more. "Well, it worked. We're on the same page, now."

"She explained that she was..." She searched for the word. "Sheltered. She doesn’t know anybody who didn’t go to uni. People here go into debt to get there. Not going isn't exactly something people do in these parts..."

The tealette nodded. "Makes sense. She was a real bitch about it, though."

"She was," Meiko admitted. "She admitted it. I'm sorry for not believing you at the time."

"At least it ended well."

"Yes, at least there's that." Meiko poured herself more to drink, served Miku, then settled in her seat. "I'm very glad you two get along."

Miku could only nod dumbly. After a heartbeat, she muttered, "I look forward to lunch together."

"Me too! Where would you like to go?"

"Anywhere quiet."

"I know just the place. Let's head there around twelve, yeah? We'll meet by the front door or something."

"Ok."

"Luka's chauffeur will drive us. We'll be back here in time to prepare for my wedding!"

Miku poked at the food on her plate. "Chauffeur? We could drive there."

"Oh, we could," Meiko admitted with a chuckle. "But Luka is really pulling all the stops for my day. Might as well make use of it. She said her staff was pretty much mine today, can't let that kind of gift go to waste."

"I suppose not."

"Oh, you should have heard her original plans," the brunette said with a grin. "Wanted to pay for the whole venue, all the catering, everything! Even offered to host this all on one of those private seaside resorts her dad owns, send out private jets for the guests, the works."

Miku almost couldn’t believe it. "Why didn't that happen?"

"'Cause that would be insane! Christ, I'm here to celebrate with my friends, have a genuinely good time. I'm not gonna leech off my rich pal because I can. She's generous and everyone knows she could afford it ten times over, but..." She trailed off. "Sometimes I feel like I gotta remind her that she's wonderful as she is. Money doesn't define her."

Miku couldn't help but smile. "Yeah."

"I'm glad you got to see that, too."

"So am I."

* * *

Meiko and Miku chatted for most of breakfast before, eventually, Miku decided that enough was enough and she had to take a shower. It was only after she left the brunch that she remembered that she had no idea where her own room was, so she half-heartedly approached a staff member, who lead her to her destination.

The room was similar to Luka's, if much smaller. There was the bed with a nightstand on each side, then the desk, closet, and door leading to the private bathroom. While the decorations continued to be excessive, especially bathed in the morning sunlight, the drawn curtains kept the whole affair somewhat quiet and dark.

After the initial look around the facilities, a heaping pile on the bed caught her eye. A small folded note sat on top of it. It read:

_Dear Miku,_

_These clothes are for you. Included are one set of casual wear for the day, and two formal sets for the ceremony, for you two choose from. There is no obligation to wear or even keep any of them. Whether you would like to have a spare set while your own clothes get washed, or you would like to take them home, it is up to you._

_You can keep the bag, too, should you wish._

_If you would like to have your clothes washed, please press the small button by the lamp on the nightstand. A member of my staff will be along shortly. Your clothes will be returned to your bed once finished._

_I am not entirely sure what your plans are for tonight, after the ceremony. Should your original plan contain an impromptu stay at the airport, please consider staying an extra night. We won't have to exchange a single word, if that would make you more comfortable; the code to the front door can be found on a small note in the nightstand drawer, and my staff are at your service for the duration of your stay._

_Kindest regards,_

_Luka Megurine_

_P.S. I had to guess for your sizes. If there is a set which you would particularly like to wear, but the fit is poor, just ring the bell and ask for a tailor. I guarantee you will be ready to head out for lunch with time to spare._

Miku whistled to herself, the fantastical story of hosting the wedding on a private ocean resort seeming all the more likely. The food, the house and the service were one thing, but being able to pull clothes out of thin air, having a tailor on-hand, being able to do laundry for a single set of clothes on-demand? She started fully seeing the scope of Luka's wealth, and almost didn't want to. One thing was clear, though: Luka really, really liked going all out for these things. Miku could better see why the woman was so angry that she hadn't brought a single thing. That didn't explain the harsh reaction, but it gave Miku a bit more of her perspective.

Mentally taking note of the last part of the message, Miku searched the (admittedly wonderful) bag. As promised, it contained three sets of clothes, each bundled in special paper. One contained the casual wear, the other a suit ensemble, and the last a dress. Each came with a small bag of assorted accessories to match, and a pair of shoes and socks.

It was mind-boggling that the woman could simply will these things into existence.

Miku put the dress away after giving it a cursory glance: it was gorgeous, but it wasn't something she would ever wear. The suit, though, was much more alluring. The dress shoes were new, the tie felt like silk, and the simple armband, braided leather, smelled like a new car would.

Mind spinning, Miku finally looked at the casual wear. Straight-legged, rich blue jeans, and a long, light-grey shirt. This one didn't have shoes, or a jacket, or any other accessories.

It was exactly something she'd wear.

Vaguely, she remembered their conversation in Luka's walk-in closet, but couldn't find an ounce of anger in her. Luka wasn't gifting these to her, per se. They were...available to her. And these three sets could barely be considered a real wardrobe, even by Miku's standards. Hell, she could only wear two at most: she had to choose between the two formal options.

Luka wasn't spoiling her, showing off, rubbing Miku's poverty in her face, or even trying to find retribution in late, ill-placed generosity. No, she probably knew how Miku felt, wearing ripped jeans, an old shirt and a beaten leather jacket, all of which had been in a plane over a day prior, to a wedding. It didn't matter who Miku was. It didn't matter where she came from. It didn't matter how well they knew one another. Luka was simply offering to help with an issue she had spotted, discreetly so. Nobody else at the party would ever know that these clothes would be borrowed, except Meiko.

Miku was touched.

Heart beating in her chest, she took a very needed, well-deserved shower. Hair clean, skin smelling like lavender soap she'd found, she felt quite literally like a million dollars, and that was before she put on the new clothes.

She couldn't remember if she'd ever worn a brand-new shirt or pair of pants before. Her jacket was new way back then, but she'd never had her jacket on her bare skin. The fresh cotton, the clean scent, it almost made the woman purr. She couldn't stop herself from feeling the texture of the shirt in her hands, against her stomach, her back. Her pants were just as nice, the jean was crisp, the color bright. Best of all, though Miku could distinctly feel that it was cut for a woman, the pockets were deep. How long had she been wearing men's pants just for the pockets? At least a decade.

Then she put her jacket on and she felt just like herself, but clean, and better than ever. It all fit perfectly.

Maybe, just maybe, she would keep this set.

She re-tied her hair, somewhat sad to see that the waves the overnight braid had caused had gone because of the shower, before arranging for her own clothes to be washed. Once that was done, she headed downstairs. She found the floor-to-ceiling windows, then the patio. The overhanging vegetation and luxurious garden were all as pretty as she'd imagined. She smelled, somewhere in the distance, the faint chlorine of a blue pool.

The mechanic kicked up her feet and lounged in a patio chair, taking in the sounds of the outdoors. Sometimes, she heard birdsong. Sometimes, she heard the rushing footsteps of someone inside. Sometimes, a bell chimed, signaling every quarter of an hour. Around half past eleven, Sakine joined her, and they chatted about her after-school visits from Back in The Day, how things had changed, how they'd grown. The woman also asked Miku about her own romantic pursuits, and following Meiko's unknowing recommendation, simply stated that she wasn't looking for anything and was happy.

Shortly before twelve, she made her way to the front door and found her shoes. She caught up with Meiko and sure enough, they were chauffeured into town to a small dark joint that served greasy burgers, crisp fries, and cold milkshakes. As promised, it was all Meiko's treat, no matter how much the tealette insisted.

Time flew by. Miku learned about Kaito, about the cat Meiko had adopted once on a whim, about her growing expertise in kick boxing. Meiko learned about the various cars Miku had the honor of fixing, the worst kind of customers, the better days when they didn't have to worry. When they weren't talking, they watched the people come and go, or Miku would comment on the sound of an engine as a car rolled by. Meiko would ask about the various scars on her friend's hands, still oblivious to the well-hidden bandage on her wrist. Miku would tell the admittedly boring stories behind the injuries, admitting that more often than not, it was simple carelessness to blame.

They had both lived so much in ten years, they would never find the time to tell it all in that single afternoon.

When it was three o’clock they had to leave again. Meiko needed to get ready and Miku needed to get changed.

"You're not sad that you're not a bridesmaid?" the brunette quickly asked when they got back in the car.

"Not in the slightest," Miku assured her. "Neither of us even knew I could make it."

"That's right..."

"Plus, I hate those dresses you'd have to wear."

Meiko chuckled. "Alright, fair point."

They chatted 'til the very last second in the car, right until they came to a stop in front of the house. Meiko's mother was waiting for them; the two brunettes had to head off without a moment’s delay. So Miku stepped out, Sakine stepped in, and the car left.

Miku was alone once again.

She took a deep breath, overlooking the luscious gardens with trimmed hedges, blooming flowers. The weather was breathtaking.

Those three hours felt like seconds. Mere paragraphs on a page instead of the chapters they should have been.

And they were over. Her time with Meiko was up.

That was it.

Miku turned around and headed inside. She had no better place to be. She reminded herself that there were still opportunities to chat after the ceremony, during the dinner. If the party went until late, then that meant even more time. More time to try and take from the groom, the parents, the other friends. A larger part to fight for.

She sighed, happy to sit by the pool until the wedding. She assumed that they'd all be chauffeured there, but then she remembered with a start that all the other women there were bridesmaids. That's why Meiko had asked. They had their own preparations to tend to.

She looked around.

The house was silent. It was enormous and empty.

Miku was alone.

After wandering around, she found another staff member.

"Where is everyone?"

"They have all gone to prepare for the wedding," the man replied, not the slightest hint of any disdain or prejudice audible in his voice. "Luka has arranged for your transport to the venue."

"Ah, ok."

"Are you looking for something to do?"

Miku shrugged. "I think I'm fine. I'm gonna sit by the pool if that's alright."

"I'll fetch you a pair of slippers," he quickly said. "Would you like a drink to be brought to you?"

"Water would be nice."

"Sparkling?"

"...Yeah."

He nodded, before handing her something. It was a small plastic device with a button. "Simply ring us, should you need anything more."

She half-heartedly took it. Outside, she kicked off her shoes, shrugged off her jacket, then trod barefoot to the pool.

It was as blue and serene as it was the previous night. She rolled up her new jeans and dipped in her feet. After a minute, someone ran up to her and handed her a glass of water, complete with a slice of lemon.

Miku looked at the drink, to the bandage around her wrist, to her knees clothed in new fabric, to the great blue pool before her.

She was left alone, but Luka had left her with everything her heart could desire. For the first, and possibly the last time in her life, she had nothing to do and no want unsatisfied.

She sighed again, sipped some water.

After a moment, she asked if there were any bathing suits she could borrow.

* * *

The second half of the day had been absolutely fantastic. Miku swam for the first time in years, drank cool sparkling water whenever she wanted, and could sit in the sun uninterrupted for hours on end. Sometimes, she wondered if she ought to get antsy, with nothing to do, nothing to keep her hands busy. But she was actually on vacation for the first time in her life, and she would be damned if she didn't savor every empty, sunny minute of it.

When six o'clock rolled by, she had gotten showered again to rid herself of the chlorine, and changed into the brand-new suit. The fit was adequate if you asked her, but a staff member stopped her in the halls and begged her to get it tailored nonetheless. Once dressed to perfection, with every button buttoned and every tie tied, she was escorted to the car, another glass of water in hand, and driven to the venue.

In the car, Miku loosened the tie and opened the vest. Sure, she looked sharp, but she still wanted to look if just a bit like herself.

The wedding venue was not far, but breathtaking, much more so than the house. Some might have called it bland but Miku appreciated the beauty in the simplicity, liked that the flowers were the most detailed and colorful part of it all. The actual ceremony would take place outdoors, and Miku briefly marveled at the streamers, balloons and bouquets before heading inside.

There were easily over a hundred people there. Some were obviously related to the groom: tall men, tall women, almost all happy, easy-going types. Some were obviously related to the bride: brunettes of all kinds, joyous for a large part, serious for the rest.

Miku hesitated at the door before finding a familiar face. Without thinking too much, she walked up to her.

"Hey."

Luka did a double-take, almost as if she hadn't recognized her. "Oh! Miku!"

The taller woman had put on makeup in the meantime, Miku noted. There was that eye shadow, some blush, the lipstick, but it was all less fiery and fierce than the previous evening. She looked nice and composed, but not much more so than if she'd just forgotten about that stuff entirely.

"I am sorry," Luka said, averting her gaze. Miku wondered if it was the light, or if she had put on too much blush. "You surprised me."

"It's alright. Just wanted to say thank you for all this."

"I hope I did not overstep my bounds."

"Nah, I appreciate it a lot. I thought I'd be nothing more than a rag sitting here, so I'm really glad I can look nice for the event."

"I am happy I could help. It... It suits you."

Miku grinned. "Yeah, it does. You went and ruined your face, however."

"Oh? Where?"

Luka opened her bag, produced a small pocket mirror.

"I was joking," Miku rushed to add. "I meant with the makeup."

"Oh."

"That— That you don't really need it."

The blush returned, and Miku saw it wasn't the light. The mirror went inside the bag, unused. "Yes, I see."

The tealette cleared her throat. "So, any idea where Meiko is?"

"Getting ready. I shall be headinging off soon, myself."

"Right, bridesmaid stuff." Miku gave her a full once-over. "You look great. The dress suits you."

"Thank you," Luka almost looked bashful. "Meiko has wonderful taste."

"Yeah, she does. Did she pick out my clothes too, or something? 'Cause she nailed my look."

"No, that was me."

Miku paused. "Ah. Great job."

"Don't mention it."

"And...uhm, thanks for letting me stay another night."

"It's no problem. Simply let me know when you want to go home and I shall arrange for a car." Luka wrung her hands for a second. "Besides that, there's no need to talk to me anymore, if you'd prefer."

"Oh, no, it's no big deal." Miku sighed. "I'm still processing things. But I'm having a good day, a great time. I'll schedule the emotional angst for another day."

"Is this your prioritizing at work?"

"Indeed it is."

Lily called for the taller woman through the crowd. "Ah, I need to go."

"Before you head off," Miku stuttered, "I don't suppose you'd like to dance with me sometime later? I don't know any of those fancy steps, though. Fair warning."

A warm smile lit up Luka's features. "I would love to dance with you."

"Only because Meiko would like us to."

"Of course."

Luka disappeared in the crowd, taking that smile with her, and Miku once again felt terribly alone.

* * *

The ceremony was wonderful. Miku was towards the front, on a seat of honor with her name on it, among confused tall people and smiling brunettes.

Everybody was dressed to perfection. For once, Miku wasn't an exception, and didn't attract disdainful glances for torn clothes, pale seams or faded colors. Only her tie was loose but that didn't seem to attract any unwanted attention. Miku actually looked good enough to fit in.

The bridesmaids, though, were an entirely different story: they looked good enough to stand out.

To Miku's surprise, Luka didn't even lead the procession, letting Cul and Lily start down the aisle first. They were breathtaking, every last one of them. Each of their dresses were oh so slightly different, every one complimenting the woman wearing it in their own way. The tealette admired how the fabric seemed to float a bit, wondered at the material and color, before briefly letting her eyes drift over Luka's bare neck and shoulders, that sinuous spine.

Miku felt lucky that there were many other things to see.

Kaito was handsome, with eyes like a puppy's and a jaw so sharp it could kill. The moment Meiko came down the aisle, accompanied by her emotional father, the man damn near started sobbing, which only made Miku feel even happier for her friend: she was loved, and dearly so.

The priest was concise, their vows were a personalized, bumbling mess, and when they finally kissed there was a roar of applause.

After that, it was borderline chaos. She could barely even congratulate her friend between the well wishes, the laughter and noise. When she finally had Meiko's attention, it was only for a handful of seconds, seconds that barely seemed anchored in reality. When she was left alone in the crowd, Sakine often came to her rescue, and together they could quietly gush about the beauty of it all.

Soon enough, photos were taken, and despite feeling like nothing more than a passing ghost, Miku was delighted to find Meiko's arm around her shoulders at every one of them. Between pictures, she shook hands with Kaito, Kaito's parents and grandparents, and even some of Kaito's friends. It was chaos and the tealette could barely keep track: people were so much harder to monitor than machines were.

It only quieted down when food was served. People obediently sat at their places, ate more expensive food and drank more expensive wine, while laughing and talking and joking the whole time. A few toasts were proposed, a few emotional moments were shared, but after that, things finally settled down somewhat.

Miku was seated right next to Meiko, but she was so busy whispering little things in her husband's ear that the tealette could just as well have disappeared. She ate slowly, noting the taste and texture but unable to tune out all the noise and light: it had gotten dark in the meantime, and the LEDs were back with a vengeance.

"It's a bit tough, isn't it?"

Miku blinked, looked at Sakine, seated next to her. "Sorry?"

"It's tough to watch someone you love slowly drift away," the older brunette told her. "Watching her fly away was one thing, but realizing that she'd grown up while she'd been gone was another type of pain."

"I'm sorry,” the tealette muttered, unsure of what to reply despite how deeply she sympathized.

Sakine looked at her daughter with a small, sad smile. "Oh, you make peace with it at one point. You have to, or you'll never stop hurting. It feels like yesterday that she was just a baby. And now she's married."

"It's crazy, how fast it goes."

"It is. But don't you worry: I'm sure that she'll be coming home more often, now."

Miku tried not to look too amused. "I wouldn't bet on it."

"I would. You two will have your own time to properly catch up soon enough. You two did get to talk, right?"

"It felt like nothing compared to all that I wanted to tell her."

"It usually does," Sakine said with a nod. "That's why it's so important to tell what really needs telling, when you can."

"I guess."

Sakine didn't say anything more, keeping her eyes fixed on her food. Miku sat there, feeling lonely, until she noticed that Meiko was now actually eating instead of cuddling her beloved.

"Hey."

Meiko grinned at her. "Hey yourself. I'm married."

"Hey Married, I'm Miku."

The brunette laughed around the forkful of food. "Oh my God, how long has it been since you last told that shitty joke?"

"Too long," the tealette admitted with a grin. "I missed it."

"So did I." Meiko put her arm around her friend again, leaned against her a bit. "I'm so glad you're here."

Miku leaned into the hug, hesitated, then relaxed. "I really missed you."

"I missed you too." Meiko kissed Miku's temple. "I'll visit sometime next year. Not some crappy two-day stay or anything. We'll have weeks to ourselves, promise."

"Really?"

"Really. It's been way, way overdue."

"It has."

"And now that you managed to come here, you could say that I owe you a visit."

"Don't say that."

Meiko sighed, the humor briefly leaving her. "I'm sorry we didn't have more time."

"I'm glad we had time at all."

"Yeah, that's a good point..." The brunette sighed. "I was so scared you'd turned into a whole different person."

"So was I. Out here, anything could have happened to you."

"The same could be said about staying home, doing the same thing for ten years straight. I was afraid I wouldn't even recognize you."

"If it's any comfort, you're just like you used to be. Maybe a bit more nosy."

"And you're just a little more shy."

Miku chuckled. "That's fair."

"You'll dance with me?"

"If you'd like. I don't know the steps."

Meiko hesitated. "Now, if you ask me, you wouldn't really need to know any steps. As long as we have fun on the dancefloor, it's dancing. So I don't really mind."

"But?"

"But most everyone here knows their waltz and their jive." She chuckled. "Guess you don't really care about them though. Want me to teach you anyways?"

Miku figured she should have said no, or at least hesitated. However, she replied before she could stop herself, "Sure."

To Miku's surprise, Meiko only needed to briefly whisper to her husband before abandoning her food and everyone there so that they could find a quiet place away from the noise and the lights. Before the tealette could even breathe a sigh of relief, Meiko took her hands in hers', and promptly started dancing.

There was the foxtrot, waltz, and others with names from other languages Miku couldn't remember. Meiko did her best to tell her the basics, what kind of music to expect, how to stand, where to put the hands, and when to move. Miku felt blessed that they both knew the basics in music, and felt that humming along to Meiko's improvised tunes helped with timing.

It was a very rocky crash course though, and they both stepped on each other's toes, tripped and ran straight into one another, always laughing and giggling and playfully blaming one another for their mistakes. After a good while, though, Miku was almost out of breath and needed to take five, even if Meiko didn't even seem all that tired.

"How many of these are there?"

"Too many to count," Meiko admitted, fanning herself lazily with her glove.

"And where did you learn all these? I thought you did kick boxing."

“Luka taught us.”

The tealette frowned. “She did?”

"She learned when she was small. Regular dancing classes, all that jazz. She hated it so much," the brunette said with a half-hearted chuckle. "She still does. It made it easier for her when we danced with her, instead, 'cause then she could have fun with it for once. But even nowadays, she has to keep at it because of all those parties her dad organises. Chances are she might have a dance to go to tomorrow. Or the day after."

Miku's smile was totally gone by the time Meiko was done talking. "Dang. All that in hopes that she falls in love with one of them, I'm guessing."

"Oh, she told you?"

"Briefly. I didn't know it was that bad."

"Huh. She normally keeps that part of it to herself. She doesn't like it when people feel bad for her."

“Right."

"I can't see why she doesn't just stop, though," Meiko muttered to herself. "There was a time that it stopped, because of her studies. She's a grown woman now though, and fully independent, with her own fortune, yet she's still an esteemed guest somewhere, all the time."

"It's something to do, I guess."

"What do you mean?"

"...It's all she knows. It can be scary to let that go if nothing is really forcing her to."

"Well, I hope she figures out that she needs to jump from that ship before she ends up married to some random dude, and not after."

"I'm sure she will."

Meiko shook her head with a sad smile. "Years and years of being forced, again and again, to go to parties and to dance with strangers. She hates it, yet she has never stepped away from it. I can't help but wonder if she ever will."

"Everybody has a breaking point," Miku said, after some thought. "Maybe seeing you get married, and so happily at that, will do the trick."

"I hope so." Another sad smile. "You have more faith in her than I do."

"Oh."

"I was thinking of kidnapping her someday soon," she joked. "For her own good."

At that they laughed, but Miku's mind was elsewhere.

* * *

Soon enough, when they agreed that Miku could learn nothing more substantial without pouring hours into it— which they didn't have— they returned to the dinner.

Miku decided that Kaito was the perfect match for Meiko when he welcomed them back to the table with a smile, open arms, and the sincere question of whether they had fun or not. They would probably get along swimmingly, too, if Miku had the luxury to actually get to know the man.

After the dessert course, where a variety of cheeses, dessert wines, cakes and ice cream were proposed, the music came on and the opening dance, well, opened the show.

Kaito knew how to dance, and very well at that. Meiko was talented as well, but their skill didn't show in any fancy moves or complex twirls. The song was slow, and they moved accordingly. Every step was deliberate, most likely practiced a thousand times, and the ease of it all damn near made Miku cry.

She clapped with the rest of the crowd, watched while her friend found her father to dance with, Kaito found his mother, and everybody found someone. Even Luka had taken to the dancefloor, in the arms of a tall man Miku didn't know.

She watched for a second, then breathed it all out.

No time for emotions. She briefly tried to remember when her flight back was. Early the next morning, very early. No more time to catch up with Meiko. No more time to get attached. No time left to get envious.

To pass the time, she watched the crowd dance, trying to figure out what the steps were and the tricks. This was high society though, that much was clear, and most every song had its own dance and Miku couldn't keep track, even with the crash course to help her. Some men even approached her, all very polite and galant, asking for a dance, but the moment Miku even asked which dance would be next, or warned them that she barely even knew the principles of ballroom dancing, they left her alone.

Miku had water and cake to keep her company, so she wasn't too fussed. Plus, she already had two promised dances waiting for her, and she liked keeping that number as low as possible.

Almost too soon, Luka approached her, with all the bravery of a kitten in a new home.

"Hey," Miku started before finishing her glass of delicious sparkling water.

"Hello." Luka cleared her throat, turned her eyes to the dancers. "How are you faring?"

"Good enough. The food never seems to run out so I'm pretty happy. What about you?"

"I am fine."

Miku watched her while she poured herself a glass of wine. She didn't offer her one. "You still up for a dance?"

Luka blinked, surprised. "You would still like to dance?"

"Why not?"

"After this morning, I was uncertain whether you even wanted to talk to me."

Miku recalled the note. "Ah, right. Well, I asked for all that so I can't hold it against you. Promised you a dance, anyway."

"Well, if you would like."

"'Like' might not be the word, but sure."

"Let's wait for the next number, if you do not mind," Luka said, taking a somewhat generous sip of her wine.

"Sure. Any idea what kind of dance it'll be?"

"No, why?"

"Meiko gave me a Dance Lesson 101. Hoping it's a kind I at least got acquainted with."

"She taught you to dance?"

"Yeah."

Luka blinked in confusion before smiling nervously.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, I am surprised you would want to learn how to dance."

"What, doesn't fit the stereotype?"

"No, rather... I did not think you would have time for it?"

Miku huffed, fought a blush of her own. "I can try to have fun."

"Of course." Even though she conceded, the mechanic could recognize the smile of someone who knew more than they let on.

A somewhat tense, somewhat amused silence settled between them, away from the noise of the dancefloor and the people. They both kept their eyes on the crowd, Luka sipping her wine, Miku her water.

When the song ended, Miku made her way to the floor without asking further questions. To her relief, Luka followed, as did a bunch of others.

The next song started, and only then did apprehension hit the mechanic like a bag of bricks. Others started to dance, but Miku barely even got to glance at her dance partner.

She was tall again, with those long heels. And terrifying, but in an entirely different way from the previous night. Miku felt her eyes drift from that sharp gaze, to follow the length of hair to the well at the base of her neck, over her toned shoulders. Worse yet, she felt Luka watch her.

With a start, Miku realized that she not only needed to hold her for whatever dance this was, but that she had no idea if she'd learned the lead's steps or not.

Before she could sputter a question, she let Luka take her hands in her own.

"Are you leading, or—"

"If you would like."

The mechanic nodded dumbly, and Luka complied, starting the dance with intimidating confidence.

After two terrifying seconds, Miku could only admit, "I don't know this one."

"I can tell," Luka chuckled. "Try not to look at the floor."

"If I don't look I'll step on everything you know and love."

Luka chuckled again. "Try to mirror my steps. This is not a difficult one."

"Mirror, right..."

Luka stepped back, so Miku stepped forward. Then, the taller woman would step forward, and Miku tried to step back in time. After a while, she figured out the loop, but even then she couldn't quite figure out how far back she was supposed to go, or how close she was supposed to stand to her. She couldn't even look at the other dancers for reference; they never stopped moving, and Miku didn't want to step on her shoes. Then there was the fact that they were hand in hand, and the mechanic wasn't entirely sure her left hand was where it was supposed to be. It was awkwardly rested on the woman's shoulder, but did it need to go closer to the arm? Was this ok?

"I think I've got it more or less figured out..." she muttered, her eyes still mostly on the floor.

"You are making progress."

"I'm the worst dancer you've ever danced with, aren't I?"

She looked up just in time to see Luka give her a broad, happy smile. "Most definitely."

Before Miku could grumble some playful retaliation, the taller woman added, "Considering that you are competing with all of la haute société though, I think you are doing just fine."

Miku gulped, felt her palms get damp. Even though her tie was already loose, she felt like she lacked air. "Guess I'll be memorable, at least. Any other tips?"

"Just have fun. That is why you flew here, right?"

Miku wanted to take that to heart, but found herself conflicted: focusing on doing well meant she didn't have to look at her partner. Having fun would let her relax, yet she could already see the slippery slope that would await her.

The argument from this morning slipped back into her mind: she was already somewhat heartbroken, no? This might help make it a bit more worth it.

So she smiled back and threw caution to the wind, doing her best to be there with her, even if she was possibly the worst dancer the venue and everybody in it had ever seen. Luka brightened up, and every now and then whispered small pointers (don't step quite that far; don't forget to breathe; listen to the music) and within a couple of minutes it was already much more fun than when they started.

Miku chuckled. "If you manage to make me a passable dance partner by the end of the song, then you ought to consider teaching this."

"What, dance?"

"Sure. Why not?"

Luka didn't reply. Miku didn't push it. They continued to dance, Luka's occasional advice the only thing breaking the silence between them.

While Miku did get a bit more confident and made progress, only so much could be made in the span of one song. A minute or two later, the number had finished and all the dancers thanked their partners with bows or handshakes. Luka curtsied, catching the mechanic off-guard.

"Euh, yeah. Thanks for the dance."

"Thank you," Luka said with a warm smile. "I had fun."

"So did I... Not sure I'll do this again, though. Not really for me."

"It does not have to be. I am glad you gave it a try."

"Yeah."

She quickly left, wondering if it all was yet another mistake. All she wanted was to retrieve her beloved glass of sparkling water, and sit through the rest of the evening, only to be promptly whisked away by Meiko: the evening was far from over, and it was her turn to dance with her dear friend.

Miku did her best to have fun throughout it all.

* * *

At two in the morning, Miku was spent. All the rich guests continued dancing, eating and drinking, for the songs never stopped and the food never ran out. Sure, the dancing became more and more incoherent, the guests got louder and messier, but for the most part, it was fun.

Now, Miku wanted nothing more than a good night's rest: she had to get up early for her plane. Her original plan was to ask a friend of her friend for a lift to the airport and see if there was a quiet place to rest her head. Luka's invitation promised a nice bed in a quiet, if despicable house, but she didn't know how she would approach the taller woman.

Part of her was terrified: Luka was in her element, queen in her kingdom, and seemed to excel at everything she did with chilling ease. Even right then, sitting there chatting with the groom's family, glass of wine in hand, she looked like a model for a magazine who only needed to worry about the pose.

That wasn't to say she was flawless: much of her makeup had faded by then, and her dress was not quite as new as it had been earlier that evening. Plus, every now and then, Miku could catch a yawn. She hoped that meant that she was ready to go home, as well.

But they hadn't talked at all since their dance. Miku wasn't sure she wanted to. Maybe she didn't even need to: while the letter and note had told her how to get into the house, it didn't give her a clue as to how she'd get there in the first place. Knowing her, chances were fair that a car was already waiting for them, just outside. The note promised that they wouldn't have to exchange a single word, after all. Maybe Miku could simply give her best wishes to the bride and groom and disappear.

She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to leave like that, though. She wasn't sure she could.

When Luka was done with her conversation and made her way to the drinks section, Miku stepped forward and intercepted her without letting herself think.

"Hey."

"Oh, Miku! Is everything alright?"

The tealette observed her: her cheeks were red, but she wanted to blame the alcohol more than the blush. "Yeah, sure. Getting pretty tuckered out, though."

"You couldn't find the car?"

So, there was one. "No, was just wondering if there was one. Guess there is."

Luka nodded. "You are heading home?"

"Yeah." Miku paused. "You thought I'd leave without saying goodbye?"

"I would not have blamed you."

The mechanic sighed. "Well, goodbye, in any case. Thanks for hosting and letting me stay the extra night."

"It is no problem."

It literally wasn't. "Yeah. I'm gonna find Meiko and say goodbye to her. Then I'll go back."

"Very well."

Miku hesitated, turned away and made a beeline for her friend.

She didn't want to miss Luka more than she already would.

Meiko was surprisingly sober, sitting in a quieter area with her husband, chatting with a few cousins of his, if Miku had to guess. Her eyes lit up with she saw the mechanic approach, and met her halfway.

"Thanks for having me," the tealette said.

"You're going?"

"Early flight tomorrow. Would be nice if I could get a wink of sleep in the meantime: gotta go straight back to work afterwards."

Meiko nodded, sporting a sad smile, holding Miku's hands in hers. "I'm so, so happy you could come. Thank you."

"Nah, thank you for remembering little old me."

"I'll visit."

"Yeah."

"No, really. I should be there in a little less than a year. It's about time I come back and show Kaito where I grew up. Plus, I miss the summers there."

Miku dared smile. "Really?"

"Really. I promise. I'll write you updates. No need to reply if you don't have the time, I know you. But like that you know for sure I haven't forgotten."

"Alright... I look forward to it."

"As do I."

They shared another hug, a heartbreaking one. Miku knew it would be the last hug they would share in a long time.

She breathed the fear and sadness out and away, waved goodbye to the groom, then made her way to the parking lot.

It didn't surprise Miku that it was dark out, but the sheer darkness and silence took her off guard. The smell of dancing, tired bodies and alcohol no longer invaded her nose. The air was cool as well, enough to make her breath show as little clouds.

Contrary to indoors, the parking lot was nearly deserted. A handful of cars, all out and silent, lined the curb, which was lit by small waist-high lamps. Their light shone on the decorative plants and floor, seemed to touch the walls of the building with some effort, but totally disappeared into the night sky. There were no stars to be seen there, not even an illuminated planet or a waxing moon.

It was dark, cold and lonely.

With slow steps, she made her way to the waiting cars. Whoever would drive her would most likely be in the newest, shiniest one. They would probably be waiting inside of the vehicle, reading a book with the help of a pocket light, or dutifully staring ahead.

She didn't know what they did in their free time, really. She just wanted to find them.

"Miku!"

She turned around, found Luka jogging her way, high heels clacking on the pavement. Her hair was untied, letting loose waves float behind her. With the lighting and her pale dress, only the noise of her shoes proved that she wasn't ethereal.

"All ok?"

"Yes," Luka sighed as she caught up. "I am all danced out as well."

At first, Miku wanted to jokingly point out that she looked just fine just minutes before, however the outdoor lights painted a different picture: the taller woman was clearly spent, fatigue painted across her face instead of her trusty makeup. Or, maybe, now that she was outside, she could simply let the facade fall. Miku wasn't sure.

"I get that."

"Would— Would you terribly mind if we shared the car? It would mean fewer trips for my staff. But—"

"It's fine, it's fine. It's your car after all."

Luka looked like she wanted to add something, but shook her head. "Very well."

Together they walked along the line of cars until they found the sleekest and newest one: the driver was reading a book with a small, lit-up bookmark. Luka waved to him, letting him stay seated and start the car while she opened the door for the mechanic. Miku didn't have to be asked twice and entered the vehicle.

She was still impressed by the elegant and luxurious interior. Dark leather, silver accents, bright lights that could be dimmed to the passenger's will. She took her seat by the window, reveled in the smooth feeling when she pulled out the seatbelt; the mechanism was silent and offered very little resistance.

Luka shut the door after she stepped in, and the car took off.

Like the previous times she was in the car, Miku listened to it. She closed her eyes, tried to think of the parts inside the machine, tried to imagine getting her hands on them. Not that she would ever get to touch this car in particular: whoever did maintenance on this thing was a pro, they wouldn't need her advice.

"It's a nice car," she said to fill the silence.

"It is."

"Nice and quiet. 'Might fall asleep."

When Luka didn't reply, Miku opened her eyes and found that the inner lighting had been dimmed, a boon for her tired eyes.

"Does it still hurt?"

"Huh?"

"Your wrist."

"Oh, no. I'd even forgotten."

"Make sure you get that bandage changed, when you can."

"Right."

"May I look?"

The tealette nodded, let the other woman turn her hand around. The touches were gentle and precise, her hands were warm. Miku closed her eyes again, listened to the engine.

She let her look at her bandage for as long as she wanted. Eventually, she felt Luka put her hand on the seat between them. Moments later, they pulled up to the house.

Wordlessly, the staff member opened the door for them. They exited the vehicle, Miku first, Luka following. Only when they entered the house did Miku say, "Wow...it's actually dark in here."

"Ir is quite late," Luka merely said.

"Nobody awake at this time?"

"Only me," the staff member said, surprising them. "And I'm off to bed. Good night."

"Good night, Leon."

The door closed behind them. They were alone.

"I shall show you to your room."

Miku breathed a sigh of relief. "Great, thanks. Not sure I could find my way in the dark."

Luka chuckled. "It does take some getting used to."

They walked the halls in silence and darkness. Miku eyed the shadows, wondering how much exactly the obscurity was hiding from her, wondering if these dead conversations were all that they could share, after that morning.

She shook her head. It was good that they didn't talk the same way they'd spoken the previous night. They had gotten close enough. This distance was good, she told herself.

They reached the correct floor and soon enough, Miku's room. The tealette swallowed thickly, prepared to quickly say farewell and for it all to end with that.

"Thanks again for letting me stay."

"Of course. What time do you plan on heading out?"

"Not sure. Just a bit after six."

"I shall arrange for a wake-up call if you would like. And a drive to the airport."

Miku smiled weakly. "Yeah, that would be great."

"I will see you off, if you would prefer."

"No need to wake up on my behalf or anything." When Luka looked like she was going to insist, Miku continued, "Really. We should...just keep things like this. Say farewell right here and now."

"It does not have to be farewell. I will visit—"

Miku held up her hands to stop her. "Don't. We've been over this."

Luka sighed. "I will though, if you would like me to."

"There's nothing I'd like more," Miku grumbled. "And that's exactly the problem."

"I will be here tomorrow morning, then."

"Don't be. Just sleep. Just let me go."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Best to end this while we're saying goodnight. Two birds with one stone and all that."

"Right."

The light was darker here. Luka looked more tired, but sadder as well. Her pale skin was almost ghostlike, straight out of a dream.

"You looked fantastic tonight, by the way," the taller woman said, out of the blue. Her hands reached up to the loose tie. "This suits you."

"I guess I'll be keeping this. 'Bout time I had formal wear."

Luka nodded, her hands busy with slowly fixing the knot and fit of the tie. "Good. Take the casual set with you, too."

"I will." Miku paused, added, "You looked great, too."

The taller woman grinned knowingly, adjusted the knot, pushing it higher and higher until it sat snugly around the mechanic's neck. When done, however, her smile fell, her hands lingered, smoothing out the fabric. "I suppose this is goodbye, then."

"Farewell."

Luka nodded, finally let the tie go only for Miku's hands to clasp around her own. Her eyes met the tealette's, filled with confusion, a hint of anticipation and sorrow.

Miku hesitated, somehow unable to let go of the other woman's hands. She was acutely aware of their warmth, how close they were to one another, and that she was shaking slightly. She cracked a slight smile, but no joy reached her eyes.

"Aren't we desperate."

Luka chuckled faintly, letting her hands rest on Miku's collarbone, her movements unsure. "Does it make you feel better to admit that out loud?"

"Not really." She held onto Luka's hands, pressing them against her. Her eyes flickered between Luka's and the dark hallways surrounding them. The tie was just a bit too tight.

"It's funny," she eventually said, after a moment of tense silence.

"What is?"

"This evening was supposed to be all about Meiko, for me. It ended up being about you, instead."

"I am sorry."

Miku shook her head. "It's ok, I think. There will be other evenings to be about Meiko. Maybe."

"She said she shall visit."

"Yeah."

"I will, too."

"Don't give me that," Miku seethed. "Why would you? When?"

"You believe Meiko."

"Barely. She never came back. Not once. But this time, she promised..."

"And if I were to promise?"

"I hardly even know you," Miku admitted, suppressing an angry sob. "I don't even know what that's worth. And you barely know me! Why would you..."

By then, Luka's hands hand found their way up Miku's neck, her fingers grazing her hair, her thumbs lightly resting on her jaw. The only resistance the tealette offered was a weak grip on her forearms, but even then she was only pulling her closer.

"I shall visit."

"Don't. Let's say farewell. Let this be the end of things."

Luka mirrored her sad smile. "Very well."

She leaned forward, oh so slightly. Miku could only close her eyes, tilt her head upwards. The fingers at the back of her neck twitched, then tightened imperceptibly.

Luka kissed her.

It was sweet, but not quite sweet enough to cover her sorrow.


	6. Ice

The questions came shortly after the guitar arrived.

It was a beautiful day, all things considered. And it had been a good day too, especially compared to all the previous ones. On the first day, Miku snuck out of the mansion early in the morning, with nothing but a new bag over her shoulder and thirty dollars in her pocket. On the second day, before she even had the time to sit down, her father confronted her with the missing guitar. On the third day, she confronted him with his spending habits. 

Those hours were all spent in bitterness, regret, and doubt. It was hard for Miku to talk with her father rationaly, but somehow they made up on the fourth day, a jar was repurposed into a piggy bank on the fifth day, and everything finally seemed to go back to normal on the sixth day. It was only on day seven that Miku finally started believing that she could put that whole thing behind her, move on, and focus on the task at hand; the never-ending work. 

But then the guitar had arrived. 

Despite their disputes, Miku had managed to tell her father the bare minimum of what had happened at the party. The old guitar had been traded for the plane ticket, nothing more. What else was there to say, what else could she even say without immediately telling everything? 

So, the guitar prompted questions.

Leon had delivered it. He was driving an amazing car, was wearing an impeccable suit, and the guitar case was probably worth more than all of the combined furniture in the Hatsune residence. The guitar itself? Priceless. It was obvious.

It hardly felt real in her hands. Despite the weight on her leg, the feel of smooth wood, the new strings under her fingers, it was like it came straight out of another reality. 

It wasn't such a strange thought. It was still strange to behold, there in their living space. What did such a work of art have to do with linoleum floors, cement walls? How did she, the mechanic with the stained hands, tattered clothes, sitting on a beat-up couch older than her, manage to come into possession of such an instrument?

Those questions were written all over her father's face. 

"It's beautiful," he simply said, seated beside her. 

She merely nodded; she couldn't bring herself to look up, to see the room they were in, the coffee table in front of them, the kitchen built into the wall across from them, the window there which showed only the alleyway outside. She was afraid that the guitar might disappear, if she anchored herself too hard in her reality. That it might refuse these circumstances, fly away, go home to where it belonged.

She was also afraid of looking at him; eye contact would only prompt the questions to come sooner. 

No amount of stalling would stop them entirely, though. 

"Where did it come from?"

She cleared her throat, played a simple chord. It sang beautifully, oh so beautifully. "From a friend of Meiko's."

He exhaled sharply. "Well, that's mighty kind of her. She knew about your guitar?"

"Yeah."

"Then we ought to send her a card as thanks!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, already making to stand up. 

"No."

He stopped, mid-momentum, and let himself fall back onto the couch. "And why not? This is a real nice gesture, comin' from a stranger."

"It is. But we discussed this. It's fine."

He harrumphed, clasped his hands in front of him. His arms were massive and scarred, showing decades of hard unrelenting labor. She saw the ripple of the muscles out of the corner of her eyes. 

"That doesn't seem right."

She didn't reply, coaxed feather-light notes from each string. Those notes eventually found a progression, a melody. Before she knew it, she started playing small little songs, emotions set to music, short-lived and soon forgotten.

They listened to the sound together while the light outside slowly went from sunset red to streetlamp pale yellow. He stood only once to heat up leftover vegetable soup, making sure to make the short trip without making a single sound.

When the evening had settled in and the soup started simmering, Miku put the guitar back into its travel case, zipping it up with all the respect a devout had towards their deity. When her hands were finally empty, they shook slightly.

He served them soup. They ate, there on the couch. He let her finish her soup before he spoke again.

"Tell me what happened."

There was no point in sighing, protesting. She merely sat back, empty hands consciously resting on the old, worn textile. 

Then she told him everything. 

Eyes trained on the window, on the grey wall of the alley, she could barely keep her tone level. She made sure her hands didn't move, didn't clench, didn't fret.

It was all she had to stop her from breaking apart. 

By the time she finished her tale, night had settled and they had both passed their bedtime. He regarded her with both curiosity and amazement, hands once again clasped before him. 

"That sounds like a mighty story," he finally muttered. 

"I guess."

"And a fine wedding."

"Amazing."

"There's one thing I don't quite understand, though."

"Shoot."

He stared at his hands for a second before gently asking, "Now why did you have to go and say farewell?"

"It made sense at the time."

"Does it make sense now?"

She shrugged. "I suppose? I sure as hell can't go back, not for a long time, and why would she even visit me?"

His expression turned to one of perplexion. "Because she wants to?"

"Sure, just like Meiko said she wanted to."

"She might not have had the means, or the time."

"Well, Luka could have helped with that..."

At that, he chuckled. "Now I know that you're making up excuses; I may not have seen your friend for over ten years, but we both know that she ain't the type to go and ask for charity."

She blushed and scowled, yet didn't say anything.

"Now Luka, we both know she has the means, and we can safely assume she has the time. You knew that back then, yeah?"

"Sure. She mentioned something about her only sticking around because her dad gives her something to do."

"What, dancing with rich men and managing a financial empire?" He chuckled again. "Now, if she said she would visit me of all people, or our neighbour, or even the gas station down the street, I'd believe that in a heartbeat!"

"Yeah..."

His chuckle slowed and his grin fell. "So, why the farewell?"

She hesitated. "I was scared."

"Oh."

"There were too many what-ifs. Too much... It was too much. It was easier to just stop it."

"Well, I suppose I can see that."

"'Cause if I hadn't, I'd be sitting here waiting for her. And maybe she'd never come. And if she did, then we'd have to start talking about things for real. We're... We're so different, dad! It's not just the continents and the wealth gap but we don't even think the same way at all! Our lives are just so fundamentally different! What if she gets tired of everything I am and realizes she needs something a little closer to home, someone richer, just like mom did? Or, what if I get too comfortable and used to the luxury around her, what if I become the leech she tries so hard to avoid? And even if all that somehow goes great then her dad will fucking disown her because of me!"

He nodded, slowly. "I can see all that."

"So, ending it was easier," she confirmed with a sniffle. When had she started crying? "The end. All back to normal."

He handed her one of the many old hand towels they used in the garage so she could dry her eyes. "And I suppose that was all on top of the fact that this is all rather new to you."

"Pff, yeah. For her, too. We were both so fucking clueless. Holding hands was already an achievement."

"It makes sense that you were scared. The both of you; I don't imagine she agreed to that for any other reason."

"Right, I guess."

"But," he chirped, sitting up so he could face her, "That doesn't mean it was a good reason."

She glared at him. "What else was I supposed to do?"

"Tell her you'd love for her to visit, for you to get to know one another a little more, when the both of you don't have other priorities."

"And then what?"

He shrugged, but with a wide smile. "Who knows? That's the exciting part, isn't it. You'll see. But you'll get to see it with her, together. I don't know her all that well but sounds like the both of you have a good head on your shoulders, so if either of your nightmare scenarios started coming to life, I'm sure you two would be able to work it out somehow. And even if it doesn't, then it would be wonderful for it to end on no uncertain terms, without all the guesswork. Right?"

She glared at the towel she held in a vice-like grip. "Right..."

"So listen here, dear daughter of mine," he scooted closer and put a massive, comforting hand on her shoulder. "Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to go to the gas station, call Sakine, let her know that you miss both Meiko and her friend, and ask her if maybe there's a way for you to get in touch with her."

"What? After what we said—"

"You've both had a few days to think about it all, so it's not so strange," he assured her. "And then the ball is in their court; we'll see what happens next."

"...Ok."

"Is that alright with you?"

"Yeah."

"Hey," he patted her on the back, gave her that smile that always managed to brighten her day. "Whatever happens, you'll be alright. I'm here for you."

And just like that, all of the sorrow, bitterness and regret from the past week melted away.

* * *

Miku's father was a man of his word; the following morning, after the shop was open and ready for customers, he excused himself and called Sakine. Despite the fact that she and her husband had just gotten home themselves that same morning, having enjoyed an extended stay abroad, she was more than happy to pass the message to her daughter without delay.

Miku couldn't help but admit that she was equal parts overjoyed, excited, and terrified. Of course, she knew that her father was right, at least from a rational perspective. From an emotional one, though, was an entirely different story. All she could do at that point was wait, and she was a lousy waiter. She did her best to distract herself with their work, allowed her dad to fuss over the scabbing wound the cuff had made into her wrist, entertained customers and played the guitar, anything to get her mind off of the unforgivingly slow passage of time.

Several days later, Meiko's first letter arrived, not only with information on her upcoming visit back home —as promised— but to communicate that she had shared all of her existing contact info with Luka. The way Meiko said it made the mechanic wonder whether her friend actually knew anything of what had happened or not. Had Luka told her and was she playing coy? Or was she really just that happy that Miku had finally managed to make a friend? Either way, the brunette told her that she ought to expect something from Luka someday soon. 

The inherent vagueness of 'something' only made waiting so much worse. Miku both blessed and cursed the fact that they didn't own a phone; on one hand, she would never have to wonder if it was Luka behind the ringing, or just another client. On the other, it meant that either Luka would write to her with good old snail mail as well, or she would simply show up. There was no other real alternative.

She wondered which she ought to expect most. One part of her thought that any kind of visas and other bureaucratic nonsense that existed might keep Luka physically at bay for a while, while the other reasoned that she just might be rich enough to not care about that stuff. She wasn't sure which she prefered. 

She was so wrapped up in what she ought to expect and what she wanted to expect that when her father approached her, all giddy about a new client with a particularly nice car, it never stuck out. The brand, make and year didn't trip her radar. Even when she finally saw the vehicle itself and rolled underneath to give it the requested once-over and nothing more, she didn't think for a second that maybe she ought to recognize it. 

It was business as usual, albeit a little bit outside of her realm of expertise, until she heard her father's footsteps along with the footsteps of another person approach her and stop. The fact that he was there was strange enough; normally he was out being productive with another vehicle, or face-to-face with customers. To be standing there with another person?

"What is it, dad?" she called out from under the car while she made sure a valve was properly shut. 

"Customer just wants to be sure we aren't touching anything that don't need touching."

It wasn't the first person who didn't trust a female mechanic, yet Miku managed to suppress her scoff. "What, they want me to walk them through it?" she asked, turning her flashlight off. 

"That will not be necessary."

Miku almost forgot to breathe. Faster than she could think, she rolled out from under the car. Instead of a narrow-minded stranger, Luka stood there at her father's side. Despite all the mental prep work, it was entirely unexpected.

Before Miku could even consider the unflattering angle and position, the various greases and oils that had dried on her hands and face, the sweat-stained shirt and muddied pants and shoes, the messy hair, sleepy eyes, and general expression of pure surprise, Luka beamed at her, seemingly over the moon.

"Surprise!" she exclaimed with a timid giggle. 

"Holy..." Miku scrambled to stand, the practice of the gesture dissolving under her eyes. She fumbled, almost fell, but managed to stand and say, "You're here."

Slight apprehension crept into Luka's expression, but the grin stayed. "I am."

"Wow. Uhm..." Miku quickly pocketed the tools she was holding. "Well, Luka, this is my dad. Dad, this is Luka Megurine. From the party. And the, uhm, guitar."

He smiled his own million-dollar smile, part genuine surprise, part raw joy. "Oh! It's amazing to finally meet you!" he marveled, shaking her hand with great gusto. "I've heard so much."

"Likewise."

"Ha, good things I hope," he laughed before turning to his daughter. "Gimme those, Miku. I'll take over for the day."

"Wh—"

"This isn't up for debate," he stated with a wink. Once Miku handed him the toolbelt, he turned back to his customer and assured, "Don't worry, Miss. I may only be second-best for the job here, but I'll have your car in ship-shape soon enough."

Sparing only time to clap Miku on the shoulder, he disappeared under the car without waiting for any reply. From under the car he ordered, "Now you two catch up all you need! I'll let you know when I'm done here."

The mechanic stuffed her hands in her pockets, hoping that Luka hadn't yet seen how stained they were. And how entirely unprepared she was. "Alright then... You want something to drink?"

"Gladly," Luka softly replied, and although Miku had trouble maintaining eye contact, it was suddenly obvious that the woman was exhausted. 

"Ok. Follow me..."

Perhaps a bit too quickly, she led the taller woman to one of two doors at the back of the garage; one was the back door to a storage area, where they kept a meticulously organised collection of parts, while the other led to their living space. 

Luka took her time catching up, taking in the garage with wide-eyed admiration. Miku ran her nail along the fabric of her pocket as she observed her guest, tried to figure out what she was thinking. The pretty cars there weren't theirs, the work tables were haphazardly organised, metal pieces and powder littered the floor, yet the taller woman seemed more impressed than anything else. 

She said, without a hint of mockery, "It looks amazing. I'm afraid you undersold it when you described this all to me."

"Guess I might just be used to it."

"Perhaps."

Miku opened the door and cleared her throat. "What do you want to drink? Our tap water is pretty good. I can make tea, or coffee."

"Tea would be nice."

"Ok."

Miku tried not to look embarrassed when Luka followed her in. It wasn't because she was embarrassed per se, but because she could only be acutely aware of how much this clashed with Luka's day-to-day life. Instead of sprawling halls and numerous rooms, their entire home was one room with a couch and coffee table, across from a small kitchen with a sink, two hotplates, a small oven, overhead cupboards and a fridge. The far wall sported two doors, one to the bathroom, one to the bedroom. The bedroom had a curtain separator straight down the middle, each half containing a narrow bed, broad cupboard and tall closet, but Luka didn't have to see all that right then.

Miku didn't waste time and started setting tea right away.

"Sorry if it's a bit of a mess," she said, glaring at her own stained hands. "We don't always have time to clean up."

Once the kettle was set, Miku tried to wash her hands, vigorously. Seeing that Luka was still standing, looking around, the tealette added, "Take a seat. There's not much choice I'm afraid."

There was more to the fact that it was small. Miku saw the worn linoleum floor of the kitchen, the concrete ground and walls. There was no art, no color and no photos. It looked like a 21st century cave and little more. And she looked like a caveman, to boot: whatever she'd gotten on her hands throughout the day wasn't coming off. And it was hot out so she was sweaty like there was no tomorrow and she was wearing her old work clothes. Despite all she had learned about Luka, she suddenly felt very vulnerable and exposed to her judgment. 

The taller woman took a seat on the couch, all the while taking in her surroundings. Hadn't she seen it all within the first couple seconds?

"Meiko said I'd hear from you," Miku admitted as she dried her greyed hands. "Didn't really expect you to turn up so quickly, though."

Luka chuckled, her eyes effortlessly finding Miku in the room. Suddenly, she didn't seem to find it so interesting anymore. "Well, I did not quite expect to hear from you at all."

The mechanic felt her neck grow hot, keeping a grip on the towel. "Yeah. I guess that was a bit out of left field."

"I cannot complain." Luka patted the spot beside her on the couch. "May I ask what led to your change of heart?"

Miku sat down, unsure of how much distance she ought to put between them. It had been less than a month since they had kissed, though it felt like so much longer. She had brought the towel with her, in a vice-like grip. The mechanic couldn't even look at her! Could she tell? "I guess I had some time to think about it."

"What did you think?"

The tealette shrugged. "I was scared, at the moment. But there's no point in making decisions on my own when we're both concerned, I guess? I jumped to a conclusion because it was easiest to do, but..." she sighed, the weight of Luka's gaze suddenly like lead. She fumbled at the towel. "I didn't really want things to end there, and if you're on the same page, then I suppose we can start figuring out what happens next...together?"

A timid smile danced on Luka's features. "Do you mean it?"

"Gah, you're killing me here!" Miku exclaimed, covering her face. "Of course I mean it! Why would I say something like that if I didn't?"

"I am not entirely sure. Then again, I am not entirely sure what you are thinking at any given moment, so—"

"I like you, a lot!" Miku confessed. "The most I've ever liked anybody! And we're really different and it's probably going to be really hard but I really want to try to make this work! If, uhm, if you want to, too," she mumbled towards the end.

Luka grinned, leaned closer. "Now, that is crystal-clear to me," she purred, and only then did Miku realize that she had been teasing all along. "For once, you are being unambiguously eager."

"Oh shut up, you don't talk about being eager; you're the one who literally flew here because the grapevine told you I wanted to talk."

"That is fair," the woman conceded, a grin on her lips. "I did promise I would visit, though."

"You sure didn't waste any time."

"I never would have."

Miku gulped, remorseful. "Sorry I didn't believe you, then."

"It's alright," Luka consoled softly. "I cannot entirely hold it against you. Plus, I am here now."

"You are."

The kettle chose that moment to start whistling, so Miku quickly stood and poured them each a mug of tea. 

"Gotta admit, a little heads-up would have been nice," the tealette told her as she returned with the tea. "Didn't even get to prepare."

Luka accepted the mug with a small 'thank you'. "How so?"

"I don't know," Miku muttered as she sat down, a little closer to the other woman than before. "Better clothes. Maybe a better speech."

"I sent my car in, didn't I?"

"Yes, but..." The mechanic pouted, hid in her mug. "I wasn't paying attention."

Luka chuckled. "Your clothes are fine, don't you worry."

"Oh please."

"And your speech was wonderful."

"Now you're mocking me."

"Hardly," she asserted. "If you truly think my opinion of you will change now after all that has happened between us, then you underestimate how transformative our evening together has been."

"Any way to dumb that down for me?"

Luka rolled her eyes, but playfully so; her expression remained friendly. "You said you work fixing cars; it would have been utterly foolish of me to come here expecting you to wear anything other than what you think is best suited for the job. I may have been so foolish once, but after that party, I would rather die."

"Yeah, well, I guess I just want to look nicer for you."

The other woman tutted, sipped her tea. "'Nicer'. I am already here for you, aren't I?"

The mechanic sipped her tea as well, missing the towel she had left on the counter. She still couldn't convince herself to make real eye contact. "I guess."

"I mean it, Miku," Luka insisted, once again looking at her, her gaze a little more firm than before. "I understand why we make ourselves look better for others, whether it's those we care about, or those we cannot care less about. But I think we both know that it would be pointless for the two of us to try to maintain some fabricated image."

"Right..." Miku exhaled. "I see your point."

The taller woman smiled and returned to her tea. Miku glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, a snarky comment on the tip of her tongue, but anything she intended to say was instantly forgotten. "You're not wearing makeup."

Luka smiled. "I am not."

"Since when?"

"Ever since I heard that someone who does not care for it hopes to reconnect. Fortunately, I do not care much for it either, so there was no point."

For the first time since Miku first saw her standing in the garage, they finally made eye contact. The tealette sputtered a bit and dove back into her tea. "Damn right. That stuff was a waste of time anyway. Couldn't even tell the difference."

"You would have if you had looked at me," Luka said lightly. When Miku shot her a glare, she added, "I am teasing."

And she was. But Miku deflated nonetheless. She placed her mug on the ever-present coaster on the coffee table, only to regret it immediately when her grey hands were no longer hidden by any prop. She wrung her hands together nervously, her eyes once again downcast. "Sure, but you have a point. Sorry, I'm just...really bad at this. I'm getting all defensive for no reason."

"What are you scared of?"

The question sounded like it came out of nowhere, but Miku understood after a second. "I'm just not too used to this whole 'being emotionally vulnerable' thing. And I'm scared that when I start being open and honest, then you'll see me for who I really am and leave. The novelty will fade, or something." The tealette scoffed at herself. "But I'm guessing you probably have similar feelings. We both have our own emotional issues."

"Indeed..." Luka set her mug down as well before turning to face the tealette and gently untangling her hands. Her skin, pale and smooth like porcelain, looked all the more frail and soft in contrast to Miku's, battered and stained. Like all the times before, Miku couldn't help but stare. "Fortunately, it is something we can work on together."

She gently grasped Miku's hands, and the tealette timidly squeezed back. "Yeah."

"Would you like for me to be emotionally vulnerable first?" Luka asked, and despite the teasing tone, the underlining sincerity was touching. 

Miku nodded.

"It was...terrifyingly easy for me to leave home. My father does not know where I have gone or why, but sooner or later I'll have to tell him something. Regardless of what I say to him, I am sure that I could leave most of my old life behind, so no matter the consequences, I am ready to look forward, with no regrets."

"Really? What if..." The mechanic didn't dare voice her concern out loud.

"Even if nothing were to come of this," Luka squeezed her hands to punctuate the last word, "Then at least I will finally be free to pursue my own dreams and passions. I am no longer under my father's thumb, and the feeling is...well, it is liberating."

Miku stared at their hands, dumbfounded. "So, there's nothing keeping you back anymore?"

"Theoretically speaking, yes."

"What do you mean."

Luka's eyebrows twitched, a flash of pain. "I am certain my father would protest all this. At worst, he will disown me. Theoretically, I am fine with that. But I know that when it finally happens, it will hurt. I will miss him, I will miss home." She sighed deeply. "But it does not matter. This fear is all that is keeping me trapped, and I have decided to leave that behind. I would like to live my own life, now." After a pause, she quietly added, "With you if possible."

Miku grinned sheepishly at that. "Well... I guess that between us, you're the one who stands to lose the most. If you're onboard despite that, then how could I refuse?"

Luka smiled, yet shushed her with one feather-light finger to her lips. "None of that, now. I do not want you to sacrifice what you would want or need simply because I risk leaving so much behind. You are entirely in your right to refuse. I'm doing this for myself first and foremost, after all."

"Right, right..." Miku sighed slightly when the taller woman removed her finger, a strange tingling left in its wake. "So, what happens now?"

Luka shrugged. "I am not entirely sure. Perhaps we could leave telling Meiko for another day."

"Oh for sure."

"And your father?"

"Maybe we should go on a few dates first," Miku mused, feeling the blush creep up on her as she spoke. 

The taller woman smiled at her brightly, held her hands even tighter. "That sounds like a wonderful idea."

* * *

As promised, Miku didn't tell much, if anything, to her father. Fortunately, he didn't ask no matter how oddly bubbly he had become, so the wait for Luka to return was slightly less tense. Indeed, Luka needed to leave and actually address the bureaucratic nonsense, and Miku could hardly wait for her to come back. Fortunately, Luka did admit that being so well off made some things easier, so it wouldn't have to take too long. Not to mention that if the procedure was anything like the hell Miku had to go through in order to go to the States, the mechanic couldn't blame her for taking advantage of that to begin with, impatience or no.

If the wait was less tense, it was nonetheless a whole new brand of anxious. Miku could busy herself as much as she wanted but it was never enough. She wondered when she would come back. She wondered what they would do. What they would talk about. If they would be able to go out again after that. But would Luka stay long-term? Was she going to take a few week's vacation? Was she going to move? They had agreed that eventually, they would have to face the consequences and see how her father would react, but she didn't know if Luka was going to rip off that metaphorical bandaid as soon as possible or if she was going to stretch the illusion of a maintained status quo for as long as possible. Ultimately, it was entirely up to Luka to decide, and Miku didn't want to influence that any more than she already had. 

The more she thought about it, the more the concept of Luka's father disowning her sounded alien; the woman was smart, generous and kind —if sheltered at times. Did her future spouse matter so much in his eyes? Would he seriously reject her to such an extent due to... What was it again, bad press? Did anybody still care nowadays? 

Miku scoffed to herself, which elicited a curious raised brow from her own father, but he didn't ask. She took a short look at him and tried to imagine what it would feel like, being disowned by a father. The idea terrified her. She loved her dad, she owed everything he knew to him, relied on him, loved him dearly and wasn't afraid to say it. It was different from what Luka shared with her father, but how much did that matter? It would still hurt, for sure. How much? Could it compare to the pain of Miku's mother leaving one morning, never to return? Can the reasons even be compared? Luka knew that rationally, she was ready to sever herself from her old life if she had to. Was she ready emotionally? Would Miku's help be enough? Would she want help?

Miku cleared her throat for no real reason and wiped her hands clean. She was getting sloppy; she wasn't used to so much speculative thinking. Taking things day by day was more her speed. Now, she was looking forward to every tomorrow, every next week. 

"You ok, Miku?"

"Just a little distracted. Could you take a look at this after I'm done with it?"

He whistled. "You think you'll miss something?"

"I'm pretty darn sure of it," she muttered.

"You need a day off?"

He had never asked that before, not in the ten years that they had worked together. She hesitated. "I'm not sure if it'll help."

"Your head in the clouds?" he inquired, peeling his gloves off.

"I don't know where it is..."

He chuckled. "Alright. Take five. But you're taking a look yourself. You better get used to working with these conditions."

"What do you mean?"

He didn't reply and merely patted her on the back with a hearty chuckle.

* * *

When Luka eventually wrote that she was due to return in a handful of days, Miku was overjoyed. When her father told her that she was allowed to have a few days off so that they would spend more time together, she was almost disbelieving. When she asked how they would get around, he assured her that she could take the car. 

'The car' was what they called their van. An automobile version of the Ship of Theseus, the two of them have spent their entire lives keeping it rolling, switching out parts as needed. It was huge, it was ancient, it was powerful and it would probably outlive them. Their shop's name and address was painted on the sides in chipped and worn paint, and it was mostly used when they needed to go get parts from other areas in the country. It was also a grotesque eyesore. But Miku had smiled anyway. 

She wasn't trying to impress, she told herself while she waited for Luka in a parking lot close to the city center. It had only been two weeks since they had last seen one another, so it wasn't like they were going to surprise each other with huge transformations.

Still, she was nervous. She twirled the keys around her fingers, pulled the baseball cap down low over her eyes. The sun was blinding, almost hot. She could feel the metal of the car through the fabric of her jacket and shirt. Summer was definitely upon them, yet a cool breeze insisted on sticking around. It was gorgeous weather. Perfect, really. Perfect for a date.

Miku had never been on a date before. Not with a millionaire. Not with the help of her ancient vehicle. Never.

At least she was wearing her best clothes. 

Luka surprised her, tapping on her shoulder.

"You're here!" Miku sputtered, almost dropping the keys.

"Long time no see!" Luka chirped, wrapping the mechanic in a hug. 

The tealette returned the hug with a blush. "Only a couple of weeks..."

"Yet it is our longest separation since we first met," the taller woman teased as she pulled back, giving Miku an appreciative once-over. "Those look familiar."

The mechanic mock-bowed. "Only the best for you, your highness."

"Stop it, you. You look fantastic."

Miku giggled and bit back a snappy retort. "So, you're staying around here?"

"Yes! I am staying in a hotel not too far from here," Luka replied, waving vaguely in the direction of the building. "I have booked a room for a month."

"A month!"

"I have no better places to be after all," Luka purred with a smile.

"If you put it like that..." Miku studied Luka carefully; she was once again without makeup, but she looked absolutely radiant. "You look great."

The taller woman beamed and the mechanic swore she would swoon. "Thank you! I feel better than I have in... Oh my, I can barely remember."

"So, things are still alright?"

Her smile dimmed somewhat. "I still have not told my father anything, if that is what you are asking."

"Oh, ok."

"Are we going anywhere?" Luka asked, eyeing the vehicle.

"If you want," Miku replied with a slight shrug. "I didn't really have a destination in mind. You?"

"Hm, I am not familiar with the area."

"I don't know this place too well either, to be honest. I never drive out here."

"Why don't we visit areas you are more familiar with?"

"Alright, if you want."

Ever the gentleman, Miku opened the door for the other woman, before hopping in herself. She saw Luka admire the interior of the car, just like when she admired her home, back at the garage. 

After starting the car and getting on the road, she cleared her throat. "So, if it's ok to ask right now, what are your plans right now?"

Luka grinned, toying with the sun visor like a child. "I have no real plans at the moment!"

"Wow, no plans at all?"

"Nothing very concrete," she muttered, pausing to read the child safety warning sticker that was still there. "Legally, I am allowed to stay here for up to a year. I hope to get a better grasp of the country in that time."

"You want to travel the whole island?"

"If possible. I would like to see all the cities and sights."

Miku chuckled. "Well, I can surely point you towards a few places to be. But they probably won't compare to the grandiose luxury you have back home."

"I sure hope so," Luka said with a sigh. "This is the first time in my life that I can experience things which are truly new. No parties, no noblemen, no dances..."

She trailed off, and Miku wasn't sure if she ought to reply. Before she could start a new conversation, she needed to focus on getting on the highway safely. Once they were merged in the traffic and driving up to speed, Luka started one herself.

"How long have you had this car for?"

"Eesh, it's gotta be about as old as I am? Over twenty years for sure."

"Twenty years...!" Luka gasped. She opened her mouth to say something, only to stop herself. After a brief pause, she sheepishly mused, "I presume you have a good reason to keep it for so long instead of buying a newer model."

Miku smiled proudly. "You bet. Buying a new car has a much larger carbon footprint than buying second-hand or keeping the same car," she said cooly while she signalled, checked, and turned left to drive around a large truck. "Of course, it needs fixing and upgrades all the time. I put in a newer engine myself five years ago. Carbon emissions continue to pass the yearly exam. Sure, it's a bunch of work, it's a headache sometimes, but at least the spare parts are still available, and cheap. If we were to get a new car this year though, then it would take twenty years before the total carbon footprint starts being less than keeping this thing. And in the meantime, there would be an even better car, and then another. So yeah, there's no real point in getting a new car. So I guess we're stuck with this old monstrosity until it crumbles to dust."

Luka chuckled. "It is handsome in its own way."

"It certainly is." When the taller woman started fiddling with the glove compartment, Miku couldn't help but laugh. "You don't drive shotgun often, do you?"

"Shotgun?"

"Front seat, next to the driver."

"Oh! No, not at all. Is it so obvious?"

"Yeah," Miku confessed with another laugh. "If you'd rather sit in the back, that's fine too. I won't mind."

"I would rather sit here with you," Luka easily declared.

The mechanic chuckled, hoping that pure focus on the roads would keep the blush down. "Any idea what you would like to do though?"

"What is there to do?"

"Nothing real different than back home, I guess..." Miku muttered, signalling to leave the highway. "Then again, I don't really know. Last time I went out was with Meiko, over a decade ago. Anything could have changed."

"We could walk around and see what there is."

"Sounds like a plan."

Miku parked the van close to the city center, and when they emerged from the underground parking lot on foot, the warm sun greeted them. 

Luka smiled and closed her eyes.

"It is winter back home," she muttered. "It is mind-boggling that summer is here."

The mechanic rolled up the sleeves of her jacket with a chuckle. "Yeah, that's how the hemispheres work. It's kinda funky that we're in disagreement with most of the world."

"You have Christmas in the summer too then, right?"

"Yep! Some people do 'Christmas in July' too though, to get that same holiday feel."

"Really? What is that like?"

Miku shrugged, keeping an eye out for something to visit or do. "Not sure. Never could celebrate it myself. On real Christmas though, my dad and I usually just take the day off and spend the time together. One of the rare vacation days we actually take."

"Oh."

"It's alright," Miku assured her, spotting her nervous smile. "It's still one of my favorite holidays. And everyone's in a good mood. Can't complain."

Luka nodded, took to looking around as well. It didn't last long before she turned back to the mechanic. "How is your wrist?"

"My— Oh yeah." Miku lifted her arm. "It's totally fine. It's starting to fade at this point."

Luka gently took her arm to take a closer look, easing them both to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. It wasn't too crowded out, which was normal for a midweek morning, but the occasional jogger had to dodge them.

"Thank goodness," the taller woman breathed. "There is almost nothing left of it."

"I wouldn't have minded if it had scarred," the mechanic admitted with a shrug. "Nothing to worry about."

Luka didn't reply to that, taking her time to examine the old wound in silence. After a moment, she let her go and they resumed walking, though it felt like her step was a little lighter.

"So you used to hang out here with Meiko?"

Miku nodded, and enthusiastically started telling Luka stories of their more special, far-from-home outings. They started when Sakine needed to go to town when Miku happened to come over, so she'd let the two girls tag along. As they grew, they started taking the bus and while their destinations evolved and changed as they grew, the entire area felt like freedom and childhood to Miku. 

She showed Luka franchise storefronts and explained that once, it belonged to a family who hand-pulled their taffy and other candies. Toy stores went from being local names to pawns of giants. Restaurants upgraded to cater more high-class diners. Yet, some burger joints never changed. Some antique stores never closed. 

Sometimes, memories weren't attached to the stores and their owners or employees, but to whatever stood in front of them. Some corner on the street where they would watch out for a bus before making a mad dash to the stop, some bench which was the perfect place to sit in a hot summer day because it was always in the shade, a tree that had been replaced seven times in six years —they had counted— before the powers-that-be decided that the plot of land was doomed and had to stay empty.

After walking down the street and sharing as much as she could remember, they sat in a square and watched the people walk by. Luka had started staring at it all when Miku had started talking, but even though the mechanic had finished her last tale minutes prior, she was still taking it all in. 

"That is all amazing."

"Well, you know. It was far from home. At first that made it special. Then that made it liberating."

"What was your favorite?"

"Oooh, good question. Maybe the museum? We didn't walk by it but over there, somewhere, there's a museum with a bunch of old technology. Free access, too. It's the reason I like cars and other metal moving stuff."

"I thought it was because your dad already worked in a garage?"

"Pff sure. I guess it just looked like rummaging in a box at first. After my trip to that museum though, everything my dad did looked like pure magic. I had to learn about it all."

"Wow."

"I guess the local library helped with that a lot, too. My dad didn't want me sticking my fingers in these things at first. So I picked up a few books, started reading about it. Soon enough my dad just showed it all to me, no book needed."

"A library?" Luka's eyes positively twinkled. "Where is it?"

Miku paused. "I'm not entirely sure. It's been... Geez, must have been twenty years since I've been. We could look for it?"

"If you would like."

"Sure, why not?"

Turns out, the library had closed a few years prior. It took the two of them a considerable amount of time to find the building, and even when they did, the mechanic could barely even recognize it. The whole place had been given a makeover, the walls redone and the windows tinted, and now served as a nightclub in the new heart of local nightlife. 

"Bummer," Miku sighed. "I wanted to see what it had become after all this time. Didn't quite expect this."

"It could be fun to visit," Luka mused. 

"Really?"

"Sure!" Luka laughed. "You look surprised."

"I guess I didn't exactly pin you as the nightclub kind of person."

"Are you kidding me? Back home, a nightclub was the only place where I could dance with my friends and other people without having to worry about titles, names, status..."

"Huh. I've never been, myself."

"No? Meiko loves nightclubs."

The mechanic shrugged. "We never went to any places like these. Usually not enough free time at night. Maybe she wanted to go, though. We never talked about it."

"We could go someday soon if you'd like to give it a try."

Miku eyed the building. What was once a comforting, warm library now looked like a shut-down, retired haunted house. The painted windows, edgy name and locked doors weren't welcoming, but they made the task of imagining how it would be at night —bustling, noisy, with sticky floors and sticky people— easier than ever. "Honestly? I don't think it's my thing. I usually sleep at night, really."

Luka chuckled. "That is fair."

After staring at the building for a little while, they both resumed walking without having to say a word. Miku wasn't as familiar with this part of town, so she had no stories to tell. Together they'd look around, laugh at silly store names, admire arcade lights and laugh at silly movie posters. 

"Do you know any book stores around here?" Luka asked at some point. The day was still young, the sun shining overhead, the breeze cut by the buildings around them. The heat was just barely starting to become uncomfortable, and Miku regretted not bringing her water bottle.

"Book stores? Just the ones that Sakine used to go to, but I'm pretty sure they're all closed."

"Ah." 

"We could look for a book store. You looking for something specific?"

"Oh, no. I enjoy the atmosphere in bookstores. I like going to their literary events."

"Bookstores have events?"

Luka laughed. "Public readings, book signings, so on. It is a good way to find other people with similar tastes in books. It's fun for casual conversation."

"Right, I can imagine. You like those places where..."

"Where what?"

"I don't know how to say it. Where who you are doesn't really matter?"

Luka smiled. "I suppose you can say that."

"So how come you like nightclubs but you don't like going to the movies?"

"It's not that I do not like the movies," the taller woman playfully corrected. "It just is not much fun for me. I would much rather do something else most of the time."

"That's fair," Miku replied with a grin.

"What do you like to do?"

"Well... I always liked the antique stores around here. They had the craziest things; obsolete tools, obscure inventions, weird toys. Then there's the museum I talked about before? And other free museums. Anything that had something new to share and that didn't cost too much to visit. I also really liked going to the pool, though that always was a bit pricier."

Luka's eyes twinkled. "You like swimming too?"

"I love it! Floating, letting all my worries just drift away... Used to be one of my favorite getaways."

The taller woman grinned. "We ought to go together someday!"

Miku's smile faltered. "We could I guess. I haven't gone in years though."

"What?"

"Didn't have the time, really. Last time I swam was at your place. Geez, I don't even have a bathing suit."

"We could go buy one!"

Miku squinted at her. "You...like shopping?"

"If it is to spoil my friends a bit, absolutely."

"Right..."

"Let's go find a store!"

"Wh— Right now?"

"Why not?"

"I really don't like shopping. Probably the main reason why I don't have a bathing suit after all this time," she added in response to Luka's crestfallen expression.

Luka opened her mouth to ask, stopped herself, then nodded. "I can understand that. If you give me your measurements, I can take care of that for you."

"What, really?"

"Of course. I could only guess for your clothes, but those do have some more leeway. With the tailor on-hand, it didn't really matter that much anyways. With bathing wear however, it is a little more precise." Detecting some hesitation on Miku's behalf, she asked, "You do not trust that I will pick something you would want to wear?"

"Oh, no, that's not—" Miku sighed. "I guess I'm still getting used to the fact that you can do so much."

"If you don't want—"

"I do want to go swimming with you!" the mechanic admitted with a fierce blush. "I'm just trying not to be too proud right now."

Luka gave her a soft smile. "You will tell me if I overstep my bounds?"

"Of course." Miku cleared her throat, eyes downcast. "What exactly are measurements?"

Luka chuckled before briefly explaining where and how to measure, the mechanic doing her best to listen and remember despite the lingering embarrassment. Conversation went back to the local pool they planned to visit, if it was even standing after all those years, to debate on whether diving boards that are flexible are better or worse than solid platforms. Miku was a real adrenaline chaser, having jumped from the ten-meter board a few times ("Thirty-three feet?! You're insane!") while Luka was happier with swimming. Both agreed that water slides were amazing and underrated.

Before they knew it, they had wandered into a park. It was much quieter than the square they had stopped in earlier, or at least it seemed that way. Trees provided welcome shade while a small army of birds roamed the grass around the pond. The pond waters were murky and shallow, but Miku thought she could see fish swimming to and fro under the lily pads. The bushes around them absorbed the city noises, hid other people, making everything feel calm and tranquil.

That was when Luka spotted an ice cream vendor, just across the street. The ensuing debate was short; when Miku argued that it would only make them thirsty on a hot day, Luka simply handed her a water bottle she had been carrying around in her bag, before asking which flavor she wanted. Miku couldn't argue against that.

So, when three o'clock rolled by, it found them seated on a bench, in the shade, in a wonderfully quiet park far away from the rest of the world. 

"When do you want to meet up again?" asked Luka between spoonfuls of mint and chocolate chip ice cream.

"Not sure. My dad said I can take days off, but if the workload increases then I don't want to abandon him."

"You do not have a phone?"

Miku shook her head. "Which makes things a little difficult."

"I will rent a car and pick you up. If you cannot leave then we can reschedule on the spot."

"Alright. That's probably the easiest way to solve the issue."

"For now, at least." Luka eyed her ice cream. "How is the strawberry?"

"It's actually pretty good," Miku admitted. "They weren't lying; this might be real homemade stuff."

"May I try some?"

The mechanic hesitated before timidly mumbling 'sure' and extending the small cup towards the other woman. Luka smirked playfully, dipping her spoon into the icecream with care and grace, stealing what Miku would call 'just a bit too much' had it been anybody else, before bringing it to her mouth and savoring the treat, eyes closed.

Miku realized that once again, throughout the whole day, she had hardly cast a careful glance her way. Luka was beaming, beautiful, as cat-like as the day she first saw her. The mechanic found herself transfixed, dumbfounded, unable to look away from the curve of her neck, the arch of her eyebrow, the relief of her collarbone, the outline of her silhouette. When Luka licked her lips, in that reserved manner she did most things, a careful moderation of all her movements Miku would have probably associated with anybody of the upper class, the mechanic found herself remembering that they had already kissed. She had kissed this woman, those lips, she could remember the feel and the taste, marred by the salt of sadness. 

She swallowed thickly. They were on a date, weren't they. By all means, this outing was a romantic one. Luka probably hoped to kiss her again. They probably would. Maybe, many times. Maybe Miku could also feel the curve from her neck to her shoulder with her own hands, trace her collarbone, fuse with her silhouette. 

"Would you like some of mine?" Luka asked right then, gesturing with the innocent cup of ice cream.

Miku could only nod dumbly. Just before she had to yank her brain out of the slurry it had dipped itself into in order to compute the complex motor movements of lifting her spoon, Luka merely used her own spoon to pick up what the mechanic would call 'definitely too much' and extended it towards her. 

The tealette couldn't even think and ate the ice cream with all the grace and intelligence of a toddler. The taste was sharp, refreshing, as expected of mint, with comforting and rich undertones, as expected of chocolate. 

"What do you think?" Luka asked, her attention back on her own cup.

"You're beautiful."

Luka turned towards her. Miku was either dreaming, or she saw a similar star-struck expression on her face. Maybe they were both suddenly smitten. Maybe they were both falling.

"As are you."

Miku chuckled breathily, incredulous. She wanted to say something snarky, or self-deprecating, anything but romantic because she had no clue about being romantic. Before she could fish her line out of the mass of sweet syrup her mind had dissolved into, Luka leaned towards her, her eyes already half-closed. Miku could only close the gap.

It tasted like mint and chocolate. When Luka's hand found her cheek, gently pulling her closer, that was when she also tasted the hint of strawberry. She couldn't help but smile, which made Luka smile, which made Miku giggle and they finally pulled apart. The mechanic's entire face and neck were flushed red, but she was smiling ear to ear.

"I shouldn't look at you too often. Whenever I do, I just lose my mind," she teased. "Like lookin' at the sun. Dangerous."

Luka giggled, ate another spoonful of her ice cream. She was blushing too. "Eat; it's melting."


	7. Simmering

"Today's the day, eh?" Miku's father greeted her as she entered the garage. 

She snorted. "It almost sounds like you're looking forward to this more than I am," she joked as she examined her hands and nails; they were immaculate.

"Well, two outings in a single week..." he started, grinning widely. "You two clearly had a good time."

"We did," Miku conceded. 

He waited for her to elaborate, as he had numerous times before, in vain. He scoffed, got back to work. "Well, I hope you two have a great day again. Any idea what you'll be doing?"

"I don't know actually." To busy herself, Miku leafed through the Big Book, as they called it. There weren't many orders to do, nothing her father couldn't do on his own. She could leave guilt-free. "I guess it's a surprise."

"Typical for her, I'm guessing?"

She thought about it for a moment. "Not sure. Maybe. She might be more of the spontaneous type."

"Wouldn't surprise me one bit," he chuckled. 

Before she could retort, a car stopped right in front of the store.

"That's her!" he declared.

"So early?"

"I'm betting on it!"

Sure enough, Luka strutted into the garage with the confidence of someone who was happy and unafraid to show it. Her head was held high, shoulders back, smile on her face, and she moved like nothing in the world could stop her. The cream summer dress she wore almost floated about her frame, anchored by a wide dark sash around the waist.

"Good morning," she greeted the two of them.

"Mornin'!" the man replied, voice muffled by the car above him. 

"Morning," Miku muttered, caught off guard and in awe; the sight of the other woman never ceased to take her breath away. "You're here early."

After checking that there was indeed a car above the third person in the room, Luka sighed happily and embraced the mechanic. "I could not wait, much less sleep," she confessed. "How have you been?"

Doubly caught off guard by the hug, not knowing what to do with her hands, Miku stammered, "I've been alright! Looking forward to today."

"Wonderful! I have a few things planned," Luka whispered conspiratorially as she pulled back. 

Miku dared glance at her. Once again, she was without makeup, but this time Miku caught notes of vanilla hanging around her, deep and rich and entrancing. 

"Should... Should I be worried?"

Luka grinned. "How much time do we have today?"

"All day, I guess."

"All day if you need!" her father confirmed from underneath the vehicle. 

Miku chuckled. "There you have it."

"Terrific. I need you to try on a few things."

"Wh— Now?"

"Yes."

"I just got changed!"

Luka chuckled and merely directed the other woman back towards her own living quarters, instead of towards the car from which she came. "How unfortunate. This should not take long."

Instead of protesting further, Miku gave in and went back inside, the taller woman right on her heels. Once again, the interior was drab and grey despite the best efforts of the sunlight outside, and once again Luka didn't seem to mind at all.

The tealette stopped at the door to her bedroom. "Alright, what do I need to try."

"These," Luka replied, handing her a small cloth bag. "You may pick, mix, try and choose."

Miku arched an eyebrow. "Alright. Gimme a bit, then..."

"Take your time."

Without further ado, the mechanic closed the door behind her and let out a deep exhale; Luka was far more surprising and spontaneous than she had expected. It wasn't a bad thing in the slightest, but it was sure to keep her on her toes. It certainly broke up the monotony of her daily routine.

Curious, she opened the bag. Within, she found a small selection of swimwear. Miku balked; Luka had come by just the other day to pick up her measurements, which the tealette had painstakingly measured with great secrecy. How did she have clothes already?

To her surprise, but also her delight, she found mostly one-piece suits. She never was partial to the two-piece sets, though she had never told the other woman that. Maybe Leon had communicated what kind of bathing suit she had borrowed, way back then, when Miku was left alone in the mansion. Or maybe she could just tell.

In tune with the rest of her wardrobe, the color palette was mostly dark with an occasional bold streak of color, while the cut of the cloth was efficient and nothing more. There weren't any patterns or frills, only logos and brand names sitting in vast expanses of black or grey. Among the suits, there were also women's swimming trunks, one of which Miku took a particular liking to. She'd blame the icy cool grey and pure white combo for striking her fancy, and pretend that she had failed to see the tribal shark design.

"Should I really try them on?" Miku asked.

"Yes!" came the reply through the door.

The tealette stripped her ever-present leather jacket before pausing. "You'll return them if they don't fit, right?"

"That's the plan," Luka chuckled. "I have no use in keeping them for laughs." 

"Right."

"Is there a problem?"

"Well... I don't do this often, ok? Ever!"

"What is it?"

Miku opened the door just a crack. Luka was waiting, equal parts anticipation and concern on her face. Even in the grey light, she was beautiful.

The mechanic cleared her throat before asking, "I'm supposed to try them on with my underwear _on_ , right?"

A small smile. "Yes."

"Right. Makes sense."

Miku shut the door and changed into the combo she liked most as quickly as she possibly could, grateful that Luka hadn’t mocked her, even in jest. After some thinking, stretching and twisting around to get a good look, she changed back.

"Alright, I've decided," she declared as she opened the door open again.

"So soon?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you try them all?" Luka asked as she accepted the bag from the tealette.

"Just the one I liked. It fit so..."

The taller woman thought about it for a second before returning to a relaxed smile. "That's convenient, then. Which is it?"

Miku held up her ensemble. "These."

"Wonderful."

Since Miku didn't have a bag, they put her chosen swimwear in Luka's handbag before exiting the building, saying goodbye to Miku's father, and driving away in the summer sun.

The tealette admired the vehicle Luka had rented. It was 'short-term', as the woman had called it, namely 'only' one month. It was a sporty two-seat half-electric convertible, which meant that Miku knew next to nothing about how it worked. The buttons weren't analog, but were on a touchscreen and were accessible via menus and submenus and endless navigation by trial and error. Disastrous. Despite her qualms, Miku had to admit that the seats were comfortable, the fancy LED lights were pretty cool, and the air conditioning was amazing. The whole thing was in a glossy black with red accents; low-key from afar, flashy from up close. She could see why Luka had chosen it. 

"So, can I guess that swimming is on the agenda?" she asked, slowly running her hands along the sleek and smooth curves of the car interior. 

"Swimming is the agenda," Luka corrected, her eyes gleaming merrily from behind the sunglasses. "I have found a wonderful spa not too far from here."

"A spa, huh? Fancy."

Luka giggled. "It also has regular thermal baths. It is fine if you do not wish to do anything spa-related."

"No, I guess I could check it out. Not sure what it means though."

"Oh, merely some high-end pampering."

"You like it?"

"Hm. Sometimes. I'm not too fond of strangers getting too terribly close to me."

"What?"

"Massages and such," Luka explained. "At home I had a masseuse I trusted. Now, it would seem that I have to learn to live without."

"Oh."

"There are also saunas, fancy pools designed to relax..." Luka thought about it. "Mani-pedi, maybe even a coiffeur."

Miku chuckled. "That's way more than what the downtown public pool offers."

This got a laugh from the taller woman. "Quite! It is also somewhat isolated, so it should not be busy at all. We can have a quiet day together."

"I guess the price tag keeps most people away, too."

"Don't worry about that." Luka covered one of the mechanic's hands with one of hers, her focus never leaving the road. "Today is my treat."

Miku couldn't reply, eyes trained on her hand, hidden underneath Luka's. The taller woman continued to drive effortlessly. She didn't twitch, hesitate, mutter or even blush. For someone who had been chauffeured for most of her life, Luka was an amazing driver.

The tealette didn't know what to do. This wasn't new, per se. They'd held hands before. Quite a few times. Why did it always jostle her so much? 

She grumbled to herself, wondering if she'd ever get used to even the most casual of these gestures. After some internal debate, she turned her palm right-side up and laced their fingers together, hoping that the road captivated Luka's attention enough so that she didn't see how her entire face turned pink.

* * *

As promised, the bath and spa was isolated, luxurious, quiet and ludicrously expensive. Miku couldn't believe her eyes when she saw the price tags at the reception, and couldn't believe that Luka found it to be comparatively cheap! But Luka was paying and Miku wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so it was without further fuss that the two received their little bracelets which granted them access to the pool area and, by extension, the sauna, steam room, and other bath-related terms Miku didn't really recognize. For other services, like massages, they would have to head upstairs and deal with yet another clerk. 

Everything from the changing area to the showers to the pools themselves blew Miku's mind. Almost everything was slick tile or grippy rubber, white or blue or cream, and it was all clean and immaculate and the estimated maintenance costs alone made her head spin. There were special mini-showers just for their feet —which seemed ridiculous until she figured out it made sense from a hygienic perspective— there were both an indoor and two outdoor pools, and as if that wasn't enough, a small pool for children, a hot jacuzzi for adults, and a bar where they could order drinks and some foods. The ceiling was made of some sort of beautiful dark-colored wood, the beams reminding her of some kind of oversized mountain chalet. Staff with impeccable white shirts and bright blue plastic sandals kept a sharp eye on the water. And the smell wasn't even the typical public-pool chlorine smell; it was softer, almost pleasant, very easy to ignore. 

There was so much money involved, the price of the bracelet almost started sounding cheap to her, too. Especially because nobody else seemed to be paying towards it; the entire place was nearly deserted. A couple occupied the jacuzzi, sitting next to one another in silence, two parents watched their toddler splash about in the kiddie pool, and Miku spied two or three people in one of the outdoor baths. That was it. 

Miku was taken aback by it all. "If you tell me this place has water slides too, I'll believe you."

Luka laughed. "Not this one, I'm afraid. The target audience is more interested in 'wellness' than 'fun'." 

"Shame."

"We will find a water park for next time."

The mechanic couldn't stop the happy smile. "Yeah."

The two of them put their towels and bathrobes on a pair of sun-bathed lounge chairs before making their way to the pool. Luka didn't hesitate, tying her hair up with practiced movements and wading into the clear water until it reached her navel. Once her hair was secure, she pushed from the steps and swam with long, confident strokes.

The only reason why Miku didn't immediately follow suit was due to the simple fact that she was, once again, entranced. Luka had gone for a two-piece suit, the same cream color as her summer dress, with small frills and sky-blue accents. It was modest as far as bikinis went, but it was still a bikini. Miku was brought back to the evening she first met the other woman, to that backless dress, that sinuous spine in the LED lights. This was more. This was broad daylight, almost the whole length of the spine visible, appearing just below the neck, down between the shoulder blades, perfectly between the dimples of Venus, only the tail end hidden by a simple piece of cloth. 

Miku couldn't help but take it in without restraint. As she stared despite herself, Luka swam, showing off the muscles and grace of a practiced dancer. She was hypnotic.

The tealette somehow managed to gather her wits and followed her into the water, glad to have the reflective surface censor the sights. It would also hide her slightly less practiced movements, not that she cared about that too much. 

As she swam, she noticed slight currents in the water and quickly found that they came from jets in the bath wall. They were positioned at different heights, targeting shoulders, back, even calves.

She found one which hit her right in the middle of the back and melted. The whole 'wellness' concept was starting to make some sense as it ironed out muscles she didn't even know were tense. With a groan, she sank into the water so the jet could hit the base of her neck, then pushed up on the ledge so it hit a bit lower down her back. Ah, there... Perfect. 

Miku almost forgot where she was. She was weightless, warm, tranquil, and she couldn't remember the last time she felt so relaxed. Her legs turned to goo and she swore she could almost fall asleep. It was unlike anything she had ever felt. Maybe there was one time in her life that compared to this. Surpassed it, even. 

She cracked an eye open to find Luka. She was a bit further up, lying in a huge mass of bubbles. Miku squinted; was there a structure in those bubbles which allowed her to lie down like that? It looked like it. The mechanic almost wanted to investigate. Almost.

Another muscle came loose and she sighed. What would make this experience absolutely perfect would be solitude. Sometimes the toddler screamed, sometimes the employees yelled something at one another from across the room, sometimes a chair screeched against the tile floor, a door opened, something happened that reminded her that other people were about. 

If she were alone, then maybe she'd swim, limbs like noodles in warm broth, to where Luka was and curl up beside her. They'd fall asleep in each other's arms in the morning sun, without a care in the world. No wondering what her father would do, no wondering what their future would be, no wondering about price tags and 'next time's because this would be everything and it would be more than enough. 

She peeked again, only to find that now Luka was swimming directly towards her. Her eyes bore straight into hers, her form cut through the water like a blade with an ease that couldn't be described. The woman was intimidating. She was a tiger on the prowl, eyes low over the water, focused on her goal. Powerful and unstoppable.

Miku could only smile. Her noodle arms wouldn't save her now.

"Enjoying yourself?" Luka asked, her lips just high enough above the water to speak. They glistened in the sun. 

"Oh yeah," the mechanic replied, finding her voice to suddenly be a lot lower than she expected.

The cat chuckled, swam closer still so she could hang onto the ledge. Miku's breath caught in her throat when she felt their legs brush.

"I don't even know how long we've been here," she stuttered, doing her best to feign nonchalance.

"You have been parked right there for the last half hour."

"Half an hour...! Can barely believe it."

"Would you like to go and swim outside?"

Miku blinked, craned her neck to see the basins. 

"Looks nice and sunny," she muttered. 

"They have warmed it to twenty-eight degrees. Quite nice."

"Hm. Nobody's out there anymore, though."

Luka simply smiled at that, her eyes sky blue and full of promise.

"Oh."

"We can stay here if you would like."

"No, euh, outside sounds good," Miku sputtered, her body suddenly awake, filled with newfound life. 

The mechanic's mind buzzed as she followed the other woman out of the indoor pool and into the outdoor one. A small part of the bath was still inside, which Miku was grateful for; as they swam out, the chilly outdoor air felt almost like a slap to the face. The summer sun did little to help. The water temperature, however, was amazing. Miku dipped the bottom half of her face underwater as she swam after Luka, wondering what exactly she had in mind.

Everything was gorgeous. The water sparkled in the sun. Luka's skin gleamed above water and glimmered underneath it. It was so smooth. Miku wanted to touch her, and blushed at the thought. She wouldn't dare... Would she?

Luka turned around so she could swim while facing the tealette. 

"Anything you would like to visit first?" she asked. 

Miku didn't want to know whether she was smiling because she had caught the blush or just because she was happy. Either way, she couldn't think. "I'll let you pick."

Luka did and languorously made her way towards a large bubbling part of the bath, similar to the one she was lying in earlier. As Miku approached, she saw the gleam of metal through the white bubbles. 

"What—"

"Jacuzzi meets bed," Luka explained. "Lie down and relax."

Miku did as instructed, letting the bubbles burst to the surface close to her ears, drowning out all the other sounds of the bath. The metal bed was warm to the touch, if tailored for a person somewhat taller than her. 

"This one is nice..." Luka purred with a sigh. "The one indoors deactivates at five-minute intervals."

"It's alright. I keep floating away though."

The taller woman chuckled. "Oh dear, really?"

"Yeah. Makes it impossible to relax," the tealette muttered as she kicked herself back into position. 

"Would you like help?"

"Help? How...?"

The question died on her lips when she felt Luka's hand snake under her, only to gently grasp her by the waist and pull her closer, anchoring her down. It certainly worked to a certain extent; she was still floating a bit, but at least she wasn't floating away. Except that wasn't the main issue anymore.

"Uhm..."

"Only if you don't mind," Luka gently reminded her. 

It was terrifying how strong Luka really was. Scarier still was the effect the touch had on her; the tealette could feel everything from the slight hollow of her palm to the curve of her fingers against her, only the thin material of the swimsuit between them. 

"It's fine!" she blurted. 

Luka didn't seem entirely convinced. Already her arm was pulling back, the memory of her handprint all that remained. "Are you sure? You—"

"No, really, it's..." Miku cleared her throat, forced herself to face the woman and meet her eyes. "I'm just being really awkward like usual," she admitted. Even in the warm water and sun, she could feel her ears burn bright red. "I'm still getting used to kissing you! This is all so... Wow."

Luka laughed, delighted. "That is reassuring," she breathed, anchoring the mechanic once again.

"I also have no idea what to do with my hands," Miku added. 

The taller woman turned onto her side. "You may hold me, if you would like."

If Miku wasn't blushing before, she was on fire right then. "But— You're wearing..."

"Only you may, though," she added with a sly smile. 

Miku couldn't see it through all the bubbles, but she knew that somewhere in the water before her was a lithe dancer's body, slim and strong and beautiful and Luka actually wanted her to hold her. Before she could blame the surrounding temperatures for the light-headedness, she turned onto her side as well and reached out blindly through the churning water. When she felt skin, smooth and supple, she pushed forward until the curve of her waist fit snugly in her palm.

That was when Luka kissed her. Miku felt she might implode, but she latched on, felt Luka latch on as well, her fingertips digging into her back. Both hands were on her now, the second pulling her closer at the shoulders, and the tealette suddenly understood what exactly it meant to be wanted. 

The flavor of toothpaste and chlorine in her mouth, Miku pulled in return, savoring the feeling of bare skin in her hands, the contrast between pliable waist and firm ribcage, the dance of muscle under the surface. Under the bubbles, their legs bumped into one another once, twice, before they intertwined timidly. Miku wanted her closer still, cursed that she was wearing a one-piece suit, needed suddenly and so very urgently to know how it would feel to be skin to skin.

It was terrifying.

She broke away from the kiss, breathless and dumb. Luka smiled at her, half her hair sopping wet, her face covered in droplets of water, sparkling, divine. 

"You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen," she whispered, her voice husky and thick with so many emotions that they were impossible to untangle. Miku half believed she might start crying, hating that if she did she wouldn't be able to tell. 

"Says you," the mechanic whispered back.

Luka didn't reply and merely stared at her with all the adoration she could possibly muster, resting her head on the metal just below the water's surface. Miku did the same, wondering if they ought to untangle their legs, maybe let a breath of space come between them.

Probably seeing the conflict in her eyes, the taller woman asked, "Are we still alone?"

"Yeah."

"Let's stay like this, then," Luka muttered, half her sentence disappearing into the bubbles around them. "For a little while longer."

"People can still see us though..."

"What is there to see?"

Miku chuckled. "Bubbles, I guess."

"Bubbles," Luka agreed, her eyes drifting shut.

The mechanic smiled, felt herself start to relax in Luka's arms, in the neverending simmer around them, in the warm sun and the endless quiet. 

"If you want to kiss me," the taller woman started, "If you want to touch me, you may."

"You'll tell me if I overstep my bounds?"

A chuckle. "Of course."

* * *

The sun was low in the sky when the two women exited the building. Miku felt like she had been entirely dismantled, been given shiny new parts, and put back together with love and care. Never had she been so relaxed and de-stressed. Except she still felt like she was rebooting.

"You sure you can drive?" she asked the other woman, who didn't seem any worse for wear.

"Of course," Luka said with a smirk. "You don't want to drive back?"

"I'd kill us both," the mechanic stated as she slid into the passenger's seat like a slinky down some stairs. She felt entirely boneless.

Luka tutted, sitting down and shutting the door behind her. "Did you have a nice day at least?"

"Absolutely." Miku summoned the strength to sit up and give her a timid kiss. "Had a great time."

The taller woman laughed lightly as she started the car and drove off into the sunset. The road was quiet, the winding curves through the hills sometimes leading the car into a deep orange light, sometimes into the blue evening shade. 

"Hm. Might fall asleep," the tealette mumbled. "Can barely keep my eyes open."

"You can sleep if you'd like," Luka whispered back, reaching over to gently grasp her hand. "I'll wake you when you get home."

"Ok..."

Miku sighed, letting the winding road, the soft hand in hers, and the quiet air lull her into a shallow, dreamless sleep. Her mind played back the afternoon while her eyelids put on the slowest lightshow, sometimes dark and sometimes orange. Sometimes, Luka's hand slipped out of hers so she could turn or signal, before returning with a gentle squeeze. Miku did her best to squeeze back when she was conscious enough to, between memories of the slightly-too-hot jacuzzi and the steamy sauna. Moments that found them alone also found them closer, and each successive moment found them slightly bolder, less shy.

They really were like two overgrown teenagers, Miku thought between memories. Luka was terrific at putting on a confident facade, but the tealette had spied a moment here or there, a slight hesitation, a question hanging on her lips. Both were exploring, maybe a bit too afraid of messing up. It didn't help that the pool staff had the unfortunate integrity to never truly leave them alone, for safety reasons of course. She could hardly blame them.

Miku wondered if they ought to spend an afternoon somewhere alone. Watch a movie or something. Her place was out of the question, but Luka had her hotel room for a few weeks.

"Do you want to hang out again someday soon?" she asked, her speech still somewhat slurred. She sat up straight, rubbed the sleep out of her eyes with her free hand. "It's an easy summer so far, so the garage isn't too busy."

Luka hummed. "I was thinking of taking a week to drive around."

"Oh. Where did you want to visit?"

"As much as possible."

Miku shook her head. "If you wanna drive up and down both islands and actually see anything, then you're going to need two weeks at least."

"Ah."

"When did you want to go?"

"Maybe the day after tomorrow," the taller woman mumbled.

"Maybe?"

"I might get cold feet. And if you want to meet up again soon—"

"No, no. You wanted to tour around for a little while now. Go ahead, don't let me hold you back."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course!" Miku stretched. "Why the cold feet, though?"

Luka shrugged. "I have not travelled much on my own before. This will break many previous records."

"Ah, I getcha. If Meiko's wedding hadn't meant so much to me, then the trip abroad would've spooked me, too." She gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Go on and visit as much as you can. It'll do you some good."

"Very well."

"Say goodbye before you go?"

"I will."

Miku brought Luka’s hand up so she could kiss her knuckles. "And let me know when you're back. You're in no hurry though, really. Take your time."

"I'll write."

"I look forward to it."

Luka nodded, eyes still on the road, hand still firmly in Miku's grip. After a deep breath, she announced, "After I return, I will speak to my father."

"Oh. So soon?"

"Sooner rather than later," the woman grumbled. "He has been calling more and more often, asking where I am, why I am not replying to his mails. I have missed so many dinners and dances and I could not be any happier about it, but I fear he might be growing suspicious."

"Alright. You know what you're gonna tell him?"

"To be honest, not exactly." Luka sighed deeply. They emerged from the shade of a mountain, and the red sky brought out the sadness in her eyes. If she weren’t driving, Miku would have hugged her. "I do not have a real plan, yet. I hoped the trip would clear a few things up."

"It might."

"I..." Luka sighed again, her grip on the steering wheel tightening. "I know with more certainty than ever what I do not want. I know that I need to leave everything my father had in store for me. But never had I been so lost in regards to what I do want."

"Well, depends on where you want to live, long-term I mean."

"I could move here," Luka muttered. "I would need a job. And there would be the bureaucracy to deal with, regarding the legal matters."

"What kind of job do you want?"

"...I do not know."

They drove in silence for a moment, finally out of the mountains and back on the highway. The sun had set, the notes of red and orange slowly making way to the darkness of night. 

"Would you mind if I moved here?" Luka asked.

"What? Not at all."

"What if—" She stopped herself. 

"What if this doesn't end well between us? Well, at least you'll still be free. That's what the real prize was all along, wasn't it?"

"I suppose.”

"Just find something that'll make you happy. Take the next few weeks to figure out what you'll need, just for you. Forget I even exist if you need to."

"Never." It was Luka’s turn to kiss Miku's hand. 

"I mean it, though. Find your happiness, and we'll build everything else around that."

"What about your happiness?"

"I have my dream job, my family, my home. I've been set for a decade, I don't need anything more."

Luka hummed at that again. "Very well."

"We'll figure it out, ok?"

"We will."


	8. Box

Luka kept her promise and visited Miku right before she left. Early in the morning, before the shop was even open, they met outside in the cold air and kissed goodbye. Then she drove off, and Miku wondered when she would see her again.

Luka also wrote as promised. Every other day a new postcard arrived in the mail, updating Miku not only on what she was doing, but her own thoughts and feelings on various situations. 

She wrote about the empire her father wanted her to inherit, how it had been founded by a great grandparent of hers and how it had been passed from father to son for generations. She wrote how she was sure that her father resented her somewhat for not being a man, and resented her mother for failing to give birth to one for him. 

She wrote about the friends she had left behind back home, namely Meiko, who still knew nothing about their situation. In fact, Luka had told nobody at all of her whereabouts and plans, solely because she was convinced her father would try to track her down, and everybody had a price. 

She wrote about people she met, hotels she stayed in, foods she tried, animals she encountered. There were endless sheep, mean parrots that tried to pry the rubber parts from her car, cool reptiles and other strange fauna native to the island. She donated to the local Kakapo preservation efforts, spent a night under the stars, tried new dances, songs, and arts. She wrote about bookstores and libraries, how one man collected only first edition books, and how another store sold exclusively Japanese literature. She wrote about the music she heard on the radio, the CDs she bought in indie stores. At the end of each letter, she added a blurb about the stamp she had chosen; where she got it, what it meant, why she liked it.

She wrote about how much she missed Miku. The places she wanted them to visit, the sights she wanted them both to see. 

Miku loved each and every letter to absolute pieces. She loved how they arrived in the mailbox every other day before noon like clockwork. She loved the small doodles Luka added in the margins, the curve and lean of her handwriting. 

She didn't quite share the same love for the small, happy glances her father sent her way whenever a letter arrived. He never asked what they said, he never even peeked in her nightstand drawer, where she kept them. That was her property after all, which was strictly enforced; since the two had to share a bedroom with only a curtain between them, they took these rules very, very seriously. But she could tell that he had an idea of what was going on, and that he was having the hardest time of keeping his questions to himself.

She was grateful for his restraint. If he had asked what exactly was going on, she wouldn't have been able to give a satisfying answer. If Meiko knew and could ask, even more so. Between Luka's soul-searching and their careful exploration of everything they are together, any question would probably be answered with "yes, but..." And Miku had no idea how she'd explain it all. 

She wanted to say that they were dating. She wanted to say that Luka was going to move in nearby, long-term, and find a job somewhere and they would spend whole weekends together. But she couldn't. 

It terrified her how much she wanted it. She could barely focus on her work; her fingers got pinched more often, she spilled and dropped things, she slipped and forgot and didn't hear her dad talking to her. During dinner, she didn't eat and at night, she didn't sleep.

She just wanted Luka to come back. Preferably, with everything figured out so that she didn't have to wonder. She wanted to visit a water park while it was still nice weather. Maybe they could go to a museum, or find her a nice library. They'd share more ice cream in a quiet park, nap in the sun.

"Miku!"

She flinched, hit her head on the car above her. "Jeez, Dad!"

"Were you sleeping?"

"Wh— No!"

"You've been lying there doing nothing for a solid ten minutes!"

She groaned and rolled out from under the car, rubbing her head. "I was just thinking."

"Thinking?" He chuckled, but concern seeped past his smile. "What about?"

"Nothing important."

The man shook his head. "If you say so."

He walked away, leaving Miku bruised, but grateful. She knew that she could tell him anything, if need be. She just wished she had something a bit more concrete to work with. The conversation would be so much easier if she didn't have to start with "We're dating but I'm not sure whether we're in a relationship and neither of us really know what's in store so we're just kind of winging it on a day-to-day basis so no real term applies and we probably shouldn't think about that part too much anyway even though—"

It just went on forever. 

Miku sighed and rolled back under the car.

This kind of stuff was exactly why she had tried to end it all between them, all those weeks ago. All things considered though, she was glad it hadn't ended there.

She owed her father more than she could say. One day soon, she hoped to tell him that.

* * *

Just a little over two weeks after Luka's departure, Miku received a letter announcing that she was on her way back. She would visit on her way to the hotel and they could schedule a new meeting.

The following day, just when the tealette thought that Luka wouldn't make it that day, pulling down the shutters of the garage in the evening sun, the glossy black car came to a screeching halt right in front of the store. Luka emerged, tanned and frayed at the edges, eyes like gemstones and smile of unbridled joy. 

Miku dropped everything and ran to meet her. Luka did the same and they met in the middle, sparing no time for twirls or carrying or cheers. Miku found her place in Luka's arms and vice-versa.

All was well again.

"I missed you so much," the taller woman declared, voice muffled by the facefull of hair.

Miku chuckled, wondering how long she could stay right there, nestled into the crook of Luka's neck. "I missed you too."

"Did you get my letters?"

"Every single one."

Luka was the one to pull away, but by just enough so she could take in the mechanic's face. She brushed a stray hair out of the tealette's eyes, and she looked like she was about to cry. "I hope you liked them."

"Of course I did," Miku said easily, leaning to nestle her cheek into her palm. "I hope you had a great trip."

"Of course I did," Luka echoed her, melting into giggles mid-sentence. 

Neither gave it much thought before they kissed right in the street, not even Miku who suspected that her father might be looking for her, maybe he was looking at them right then. She was too absorbed by the sensations she had gotten so addicted to so quickly, which she had missed so dearly. 

When they pulled apart, she giggled, unable to believe that kissing Luka could have ever been so easy. 

"What is so funny?" 

"I'm just really glad you're back," she admitted. "I missed you lots."

Luka smiled, kissed her brow, her arms still around her. "I need to get back to my hotel. Maybe I can come back the day after tomorrow?"

"Sure."

"We can go to a park nearby? I have driven quite enough recently."

"I know just the place."

"Wonderful." Luka kissed her again, her movements suddenly very slow and deliberate. "I will be talking to my dad tomorrow evening."

That put a damper on things. "Oh. Good luck?"

"Fortunately, I feel that I will not be needing it," she whispered with a half-sad smile. "I will tell you all about it."

"Alright."

They pulled apart reluctantly, and Miku felt her skin break out into goosebumps; when had the evening air gotten so cold?

"Day after tomorrow, then?" she called after Luka's retreating form.

"In the morning!"

"I'll be here!"

Luka blew her a kiss before driving away once again. Though she hated to see her leave, her heart felt light for the first time in days. 

When she went back inside, her father was cooking dinner. If he had seen anything, he didn't say a word. 

"So, Luka just came back."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. You think I can take the day after tomorrow off?"

"The whole day?"

"Maybe." She plopped down on the couch. "We might need to talk about some stuff."

"Oh. Sounds serious."

"It might be."

"Well, lots of orders came in today. But if you can help clear those then you can have the day."

She blinked, remembered that the Big Book was suddenly full and that the garage didn't have any empty places left. She hadn't even thought about that. "Right. I'll do what I can."

"I know you will."

He didn't ask anything more, but he was humming happily to himself, and Miku didn't think he had ever done that before.

* * *

Even though the amount of time she could have with Luka depended on her efficiency, which honed her mind to a razor-sharp point and made her more thorough and quick than ever before, they closed the following night with a whole pile of work to finish the next day. To add insult to injury, despite working like a madwoman, she didn't sleep.

Luka would have had her conversation with her father, and was alone. If it had gone badly, then the woman was isolated in her emotions, whatever they might be. She probably wouldn't reach out to Meiko unless it had been disastrous and even then, the brunette was on another continent. 

Miku was afraid. She wished she could reach out, call, visit her. 

Instead, she got two solid winks of sleep, got up early and continued working. Her father joined her sometime after five in the morning, without a question or a word. When the sun came up, Miku gave herself enough time off to shower and eat, but nothing more. Her hands and clothes would be stained by the time Luka would come pick her up, but the tealette couldn't care much for that; their time together was more important, and she would work to the bone if it would buy her another minute.

At nine, Luka rolled up in her sleek back car and Miku thought she would pass out from worry. She jogged to the vehicle, heart in her throat, to find the taller woman tired but all smiles.

"Hi!" the mechanic greeted her, somehow out of breath. "How are you?"

"All things considered, I am alright." 

"Oh. Good."

"Ready to go?"

"Hold on." Miku jogged back to the garage. "Luka's here."

"You got 'till three," her father said without turning away from his work.

"Three? Isn't that a bit late?"

"I got this. Go catch up."

"Are you sure?"

He raised an arm only to shoo her with it. "Go! This isn't anything your old man can't handle."

How could she refuse? Miku washed her hands and face one last time before running out and hopping into the car.

"Where to?" Luka asked.

"Oh, to the park? Just follow this road, I'll let you know when to turn."

"Very well."

Miku studied her more carefully. The lack of makeup made her fatigue all the more apparent. But she didn't seem all that tense; her hair —which looked somewhat shorter than it was a few weeks prior— was tied up in a ponytail, showing the relaxed curve of her neck and shoulders. The hands on the wheel held no tension, though Miku noticed with a start that her nails weren't painted in any color. The rest of her posture, easy to read with the casual jeans and t-shirt combo, was just as composed. 

The mechanic cleared her throat. "Did you talk to your dad?"

"Yes, I did." Luka paused before adding, "We ought to wait until we are sitting somewhere. I do not think I could talk about things while driving."

"Oh, that's fair."

"It went well, all in all. There's no great need to worry."

Miku felt herself relax, but only somewhat. "Is that relatively speaking?"

"I suppose it depends on what it would be relative to."

"Relative to how bad you expected it to be?"

After some silence, Luka muttered, "Yes."

So, all was not sunshine and rainbows. Miku eyed her hold on the steering wheel; it was still easy.

"Want to hold my hand?" she asked timidly.

Luka nodded. Their hands met over the central console, the taller woman's grip surprisingly firm. 

They drove like that for a few minutes, Miku giving directions as they approached the park. They found it to be almost deserted, which wasn't too surprising; this time of year, most people were at the beaches and bustling center-city areas if they weren't busy at work. Only local residents of the town knew about this park, and even they were more likely to leave town once they had enough free time. The neighbors of the park didn't mind, since it allowed them to let their chickens walk around the fenced-in area and peck at grass and random bugs all day long. The groups of trees were thick enough to make sure they didn't have to worry about hawks or other birds of prey. This also allowed the single pond to house a very prosperous school of fish.

Miku liked the park, even if most people called it too dark and cold. The dense trees and shade turned a hot day into a bearable one, and even if multiple families were around, you would have trouble even noticing them. It was secluded, quiet and cool; perfect for a potentially difficult conversation.

Luka sat on a bench first, without taking any time to admire the pond or observe the chickens. When Miku sat down next to her, all the more concerned, the taller woman wordlessly asked for a hand to hold. 

Then, after a minute of silence, she said, "I have not been disowned. At least not quite yet."

"That's something."

"It is." Luka breathed for a few moments. "He never was a shouter. His anger was always hidden in what he did not say."

"So what did he say?"

"Not very much."

Miku watched her closely. "What did you say?"

"A few things. I started with my departure, how I am going my own way. Ever the businessman, he tried to barter for my return."

"And?"

"I gave him a choice; either he would make me, and only me, his heir, or he could sell it all before his death. There would be no talk of me marrying anybody any longer."

"Did he choose?"

"No, not yet. And I warned him, even if he were to choose the former, I would not return before I had a taste of living for myself. He has many years left to live; plenty of time for the both of us to make up our minds."

"Right."

Luka sighed, relaxed somewhat. "Then I told him about you."

"Me?"

"Not by name, naturally. But I told him that I had found someone I would much rather spend my life with. Someone who is not an oil tycoon, not a prince, and most importantly, not a man."

"How'd he take that?"

"Well, he said he would have to think about that. Then he hung up on me." A small, bittersweet smile crept on her features. "It was a good idea to leave that for last."

"Geez."

"He did not insult me. Nor did he banish me outright. I am almost surprised that he dared say what he did; he is a man of his word. That he would even consider accepting this is... It is almost a relief. Almost."

"I guess I could see that."

"Our relationship is very different from the one you have with your father," Luka softly assured her. "We never were very close."

"I get that, but you still stand to lose it; no matter how close you two were, it's still pretty unique."

"True."

Both stared at the sun-dappled grass, admired the pale butterflies as they flew lightly from one flower to the next. A chicken squawked in the distance.

"How do you feel?" 

"The more I think about it, the more I feel that I am relieved. There is nothing else I can do but wait for his decision, whatever it may be."

"What if he tells you that you're cut off, that he'll sell and that you'll lose every connection you have with home?"

Luka thought about it for a moment. "Then I suppose I will learn to live with that." 

"But—"

The taller woman shushed her gently. "You never were one to ask many 'what if's, were you?"

"That changed a lot since I met you," the mechanic confessed. "Before you, I didn't have to speculate much at all. Now I'm wondering how much I'm taking from you."

"Not 'taking', rather 'changing'."

"Still..."

"And what if he decides that the family business should stay in the family, even if it is a woman? Honestly, he might prefer that to selling."

"Yeah, but what if that woman is a dyke?"

Luka laughed, a sound Miku didn't think she'd hear again so soon. "Well, that is up for him to decide. And no matter what he ends up deciding, I have my own life ahead of me, now. Thanks to you."

The tealette regarded her for a long time; she was clearly tired, but her relaxed posture and confident statements didn't seem to be a front for anything. She was once again looking around with wonder in her eyes, admiring the trees above and the plants around them. The smile had settled almost naturally on her features.

Before she knew it, she was looking straight into pools of blue. 

"What is it?" Luka asked. 

Miku averted her eyes, embarrassed. "I guess there's still so much I assumed about you. That you'd be more upset about all this. That you'd care more about changing his mind, about all you stand to lose. But you're taking it all so well."

Luka shook her head. "I have had my time to think and cry about it. But I suppose that something you said helped me more than anything else."

"Me? What did I say?"

"That I cannot control what others may think or do, but I can control myself." While Miku racked her brain trying to remember when exactly she'd said that, Luka added, "It is true. I cannot control what my father will decide. But I can decide what I shall do with the time and freedom I have created for myself. So, after giving all those upsetting fears their due attention, I decided to simply breathe, and let them go. I have much better things to do." Luka sat up, suddenly full of energy. "Speaking of which, I have finally decided what I will be doing! While I was driving, it came to me out of the blue, and—"

That was when she saw Miku's starstruck expression. She chuckled, her smile turning into something a bit more playful, a bit more timid. "What is it?"

The mechanic could only shake her head slightly, as if suddenly woken up, disarmed. This wasn't embarrassment, but something more insidious which ran deeper, colder, tinged with self-disgust and disbelief. "I'm so amazed by you. You're so much more than I could have ever believed." Luka playfully swatted her arm, but Miku held her hand tighter, insisting, "I was scared of so much, going into this! I wondered how we would ever make it work, how I'd deal in the long-term with, well, a princess! But...God, I was so prejudiced."

"Oh?"

Miku shook her head again. "I thought you'd never be able to part with all that stuff you had back home. Especially since no matter where I bring you, no matter what I show you, you take it all in with so much wonder, as if you've never seen anything like that before! And that's amazing! But all that pure raw luxury, everything you were familiar with, all of it, gone? You were so in your element, there. So much gold and sparkles and you just told me that you'll deal with losing it all! I can hardly believe that... And this is on top of the fact that this is the second time I see you wearing that shirt, when you had a wardrobe so big that you probably had a shirt for every day of the year!"

"I couldn't possibly pack it all."

"But we've only met up three times!" Miku blurted. "Three, and there's already a repeat! You... You probably never had that happen to you before?"

A light chuckle. "It's true, I have not."

Miku felt tears well up in her eyes. "You're rolling with so many punches, punches I never even expected you to handle, and I feel so, so stupid for assuming..."

Luka put an arm around her shoulder, wordlessly silencing her. "It's alright."

"But it isn't!"

"No matter how good our intentions are, I am sure that we are both dealing with plenty of deep-rooted expectations," Luka assured her, pressing a firm kiss to her temple. "I have dealt with my fair share, I cannot be angry at you for doing the same."

"There's so many, though."

"And we will tackle each and every single one, one day at a time." 

"You sure?"

Another chuckle. "This is not exclusive for us. Every couple will deal with their habits and prejudices colliding at some point."

Miku sighed deeply, relieved if still somewhat disappointed in herself. She snuggled into the embrace, liking how her head fit perfectly in the crook of Luka's shoulder. "I guess that makes sense..."

"Though, if you would like to share how else I have shattered your expectations, then I suppose that I am in the mood for being flattered."

The mechanic grinned. "You know, for someone who has been chauffeured everywhere for the longest time... You really, really know how to drive."

"Oh, what a relief."

Miku laughed. "What, you were worried?"

"Somewhat," Luka confessed with a giggle. "It is your field of expertise, after all."

"I wasn't judging," the tealette assured her. "I was just passively impressed."

"Good."

"One question, though: can you drive stick?"

Luka supressed a laugh, and Miku could see from up close how her nose crinkled slightly as she did that. "No."

"Shame on you!" Miku joked, kissing her cheek. "Shame on your country for your disdain of manual transmission!"

"Oh yes, I am very ashamed. Woe is me."

They shared a laugh, curled into one another on the park bench. 

"If you want something else though," the tealette started again. "When I first saw you, you almost scared me. But in a good way."

"How on earth can that be in a good way?"

"Well, you're tall for one, and you're..." She hummed, looking for the right word, a slight blush dusting her features. She was grateful the other woman wouldn't be able to see it, tucked under her chin as she was. "Toned. The dress you were wearing that evening didn't hide it at all and, well, you were quite intimidating." 

"Well, thank goodness we are past that."

Miku hummed again.

"Are we not?"

"Hm, not really. When we went to the pool, I was very...intimidated."

Luka pulled back slightly, just enough to finally see the blush and the bashful grin on the mechanic's features. 

"Oh dear, you aren't joking."

Miku shook her head, still snuggled as deeply into the embrace as she could. "It's a good thing, though. I promise."

"Are you sure 'intimidated' is the right word?" the taller woman asked with a raised brow.

"Pff, who knows. All I really know is that when I combine it with the thought that you actually want me to be with you and kiss and touch you, well, that just makes me weak."

"Oh dear," Luka said with a soft chuckle. "If it's worth anything, it is entirely reciprocated."

"The being together thing or the intimidated thing?"

"More the former than the latter, though the latter was definitely true at one point."

Miku couldn't help but bark in laughter. "I can only imagine. You just organized this beautiful party for your dear friend in your jaw-dropping mansion, meals prepared, drinks stirred and shaken, presents wrapped and music selected, and in walks this thug. Angry mug and all."

Luka shook her head with a grin. "I was sure you were armed."

"Woa, that too! Like, a knife or a gun?"

"I wasn't sure."

"Come on, which was it?"

"..."

"I bet it’s a knife. What kind? A butterfly knife? Or just a straight-up dagger? Oh, a shiv!"

"Oh shush now."

"And this shiv-wielding thug walks up to dear old Leon and presents an invite! But, imagine this, no gift!" Luka merely rolled her eyes, so Miku went on, "Now, we couldn't have that! A thug in the party was bad enough, but a _rude_ thug? Inconceivable! Unacceptab—"

This time, Luka resorted to kissing the tealette to silence her. When they parted, foreheads still pressed together, the taller woman whispered, "Thankfully, we are past that."

"Yeah," Miku purred. "Did I go too far?"

"No. It is good that we can laugh at our past mistakes."

The tealette nodded. "And we can deal with the others as they come."

"Precisely."

This time, it was Miku's turn to initiate the kiss. In the warm comfort of the embrace, all shame and fears washed away, a small phrase suddenly presented itself to Miku. It flitted by, barely daring to show itself, but the mechanic was aware of it, that that was enough. She almost dared utter it, knowing somehow that she didn't have anything to fear, but still she chased it away.

She drew back slightly, mind buzzing and heart racing. Before Luka could ask what was the matter, she said, "I totally cut you off earlier, though. I didn't mean to, but you were going to say something about finding something to do?"

Luka's face lit up like a sky full of fireworks. "I did! And it's all thanks to you!"

"Me?"

"Yes! I was driving along the coast, and the sun was setting on the other side of the island, and I was listening to music on the radio and remembering all sorts of things. At some point my mind drifted back to you, as it does, and I remembered our dance together, after the wedding."

"It was so awful."

"Oh sweetheart, you did amazing; you learned so fast!"

Miku did a double-take. "Uh, well, only thanks to you."

"Yes! Of course, if you hadn't wanted to learn then nothing would have happened, but it was fun to teach. So, that is what I shall do!"

"Teach dance?"

Luka nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Formal ballroom dance, to be precise. Surprisingly, there is demand for it around here, and I am practically an expert." 

"You are."

"If I can get my own studio off the ground, then I can stay here for much longer! Of course, the bureaucracy will still be a hassle, but that is a small price to pay."

Miku didn't even want to stop herself from smiling. "Where will you settle, though?"

"I have not decided on an address quite yet of course; I need to start shopping in the local real-estate circles and see where good places overlap with the target demography."

"Right."

"Worry not though, sweetheart," Luka kissed her temple again, "I won't be going far at all."

Miku could barely stutter, "Good, you better not."

"What's the matter?"

"You called me sweetheart. Twice."

"Did I?" Luka blinked, trying to recollect her precise words. "Oh. Is that bad?"

"N-no, it's fine. Just, well, not used to it."

"If you would prefer that I—"

"It's fine!" she tucked into the embrace again, mumbling into Luka's neck, "I kinda like it I think."

The tealette felt more than heard the quiet chuckle. "Good."

"Don't go expecting me to start calling you cutesy names, though!" Miku grumbled. 

"I wouldn't dream of it."

After clearing her throat, the mechanic said, "Anyway, uhm, if you ever hear anything from your dad, or if you need help or support or anything, you know you can come to me, right?"

"Of course."

"Have you been talking to Meiko about any of this?"

"No, not yet."

"Then I insist; you can come over in the middle of the night if you need to. If you're upset or anything. I get the whole breathing and letting go mentality, but sometimes emotions get the better of you."

"I think I will be alright." Luka kissed the top of her head. "But I will be sure to take you up on that offer, should the need arise."

Miku nodded, making sure to hold her close. "You better."

* * *

On the kitchen counter, wedged between the water boiler and the wall, sat a half-full glass jar. The sticker and lid said that it contained strawberry jam, but it hadn't contained any jam in a few weeks by then. Instead, a variety of notes and coins filled it, faces pressed against the glass and metal gleaming in the soft light.

Miku stared at the jar while she absent-mindedly ate her dinner. Her hands were sore from working; her father had needed more help than even he had anticipated, leading to the two of them working in double-time, well over their closing hours. The tealette almost regretted leaving him in the first place. But he insisted that, if their chat had been productive, then it was worth it. 

It was absolutely worth it. 

"Hey, dad?"

He finished chewing a mouthful of vegetables before humming in reply.

"You have any plans for the savings we made so far?"

He shook his head. "None right now."

"You know how much is in there?"

"Couple hundred, give or take. Why?"

Miku put down her fork. "Well, uhm... It looks like Luka might be moving here."

"Oh, really? That's a big step."

"Yeah. But she found something to do, and her dad isn't so happy with her right now, so she wants to hang around."

"That's fantastic! Where do you think she's gonna go?"

"Not sure yet. Around. Gonna open a dance studio."

"Fantastic. We'll need to prepare a housewarming gift, then!"

"Yeah."

He continued eating merrily, but when Miku still didn't touch her food, he slowed. "Something else on your mind?"

"Well, I guess I really want to be able to get in touch with her. Whenever. She's going through a rough spot right now and I want her to be able to reach me."

The man nodded. "Right."

"So, would you mind terribly if I looked at some cheap mobile phones?"

"It ain't the phone that's gonna cost ya, but the calls and texts. All in the long run, those things."

"I know, I know, but I heard there were prepaid plans out there. Plus, we'd only write to organize a meet up, so I don't need a smartphone with roaming or whatever. Just something real cheap."

"Right."

"Is that ok?"

The man didn't reply and stood instead with a heavy sigh, with all the energy he had left after the long day. With slow movements, he opened one of the cupboards under the sink and rummaged through the various bottles of cleaning sprays they kept there. After a brief search, he stood again and returned to her, a small box in his hands.

"Figured you might've wanted this for your birthday, but—" He shrugged. "—you need it now. Both of you."


	9. Home

Lots of progress could be made once Luka had decided that teaching dance was her calling. The next time they could meet, which was just under a week later, they visited a bookstore and a museum, where they could gush about their passions. There, Miku excitedly told her about her brand-new phone number, while Luka showed photos of studios she was considering. The taller woman also called her 'dearest' and 'sweetheart' all the time by then, and Miku was getting more and more fond of it by the hour.

The time thereafter, Luka had closed a deal on a studio and was looking for a place to live. They talked about it dreamily while floating around the nearby public pool, surrounded by other couples and families. Luka asked all sorts of questions about things she ought to look out for; which was more important, proximity to a parking lot or a grocery store? Miku advised her as best as she could, given her equally limited experience. Only after the fact did Luka tell her that it had been her birthday recently. Before the tealette could get upset, the taller woman assured her that she hadn’t planned to celebrate in any way whatsoever, since it had always been such a big deal back home. Spending a nice quiet day with the mechanic had been more than enough. 

A few days after that, shortly before the two had planned to meet again, Miku was surprised by a letter from Meiko in the mail. It had been so long —or at least it felt like it had been— that the tealette had almost entirely forgotten about her promise to visit. But the brunette was true to her word, and said that she had arranged to visit in a few weeks. 

Later that afternoon, while she was standing in the doorway to Luka's new studio, she read the first half of it out loud to the other woman.

"She'll be here in less than a month?" Luka asked as she measured the length of a wall.

"Yeah."

"That is soon." Luka hummed to herself, took a few notes. "She said she would visit, no?"

"She did. I guess I almost forgot, with everything going on." Miku stepped forward and held the end of the tape measure when the distance was just a bit too long.

"Thank you. Hm. Do you think this wall should have the mirror, or the adjacent one?"

"Not sure. Guess it depends on how you want the light to behave, or something."

"It is mostly to help the students. Having it perpendicular to the windows should probably be best."

"It's the more narrow wall, though."

Luka hummed, scribbled some more notes. "Are you looking forward to seeing Meiko again?"

"Of course."

"It will be amazing to revisit your old favorite places, I imagine."

"Oh yeah, for sure," Miku muttered. "She's bringing all your friends, though."

Luka paused, startled out of her notes. "Is she?"

"Yeah. Says so later in the letter."

"Oh dear. I am sorry."

Miku sighed. "Don't be. I'm sure she'll send everyone off and we'll have our own time together."

"She had better," the taller woman grumbled, putting her notebook away. "Heaven knows how long you have been waiting for such an occasion."

"Yeah. That's not all, though."

"What is it?"

"She wondered where you've been," Miku said carefully. "Hasn't heard from you ever since she told you about me."

"Ah."

"You still haven't told her anything at all?"

"I have not," the taller woman admitted. 

She was deeply lost in thought, but Miku could tell that for the first time that afternoon, the new studio had taken second place in Luka's mind. "I thought she was your best friend."

"She is," Luka quickly assured her. "I am afraid that I cannot properly explain what has kept me so silent."

Right there, Miku saw it; a conflicted expression, one of concern, confusion, and a dash of hope. 

"I think I get it."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Still haven't told my dad much of anything either."

"Has he asked?"

"Not really. He wants to, I can tell. I'm grateful he doesn't though. I wouldn't know what to say."

Luka chuckled, half relief, half of something remorseful. "Well, I am glad we are on the same wavelength, then. I would not have known how to justify myself to you. I would have tried, but..." 

"Yeah, I get it." Miku cleared her throat before asking, more carefully than before, "What did you tell your dad, though? About me, I mean."

"Oh. For the sake of keeping it simple, and of course to ensure that he would not latch onto any perceived uncertainty, I may have put the cart before the horse, so to speak, and stated that we were, well, together." A slight blush dusted her features before she added, "Long term."

Miku nodded, stuffed her hands into the pockets of her ever-present jacket. "I get that."

"Sorry."

"No, no, don't be." She cleared her throat again, bunched her hands into fists, feeling the tired material stretch around her hand. "Guess I'll jump the gun too and ask if you want to be, for real? I mean, I know we're supposed to be taking it slow and all. But I like you more and more with every passing day, and we've gotten real close, and since you're chin-deep in the process of moving here for good and getting a job, it's starting to feel a little silly."

"Are you—"

"Yes, I'm asking you out," Miku said with the straightest face she could manage. "I'd really, really like to be with you."

Wordlessly, Luka closed the gap between them, grabbed her by the collar of the jacket, and pulled her in for a long, deep kiss. She was being especially sweet, both figuratively and literally; they had shared another ice cream on the way there, and the flavor of mango added well to her warmth, creating such a comforting blend that Miku had no time to worry. 

"I'll take that as a yes?" she breathlessly asked as they parted.

"Absolutely." 

"Oh thank goodness," the tealette chuckled, snaking her arms around the other woman's waist. 

"You were worried?"

"Were you?"

"It is healthy to worry a little."

Miku rolled her eyes, tucked into the embrace. Their height difference was just _perfect_. "Just a bit, though."

"Of course."

"I guess we could start being a little bit more open about us now, right?"

"Yes. We could give Meiko a warning, before she arrives here."

"Or," Miku started, pulling back with an impish grin, "Or we could surprise her with it."

Luka looked skeptical. "Surprise, you say? Who says she does not already suspect what is going on?"

"I'm willing to bet that she doesn't suspect a single thing," Miku said with all the confidence in the world. "She's just real happy I managed to make a friend after all these years, and real happy that it's you."

"Why would I disappear, though?"

"To escape from your father and the life he had planned for you, of course. Maybe our budding friendship was just the catalyst you needed."

"Oh, she would be right about that speculation," Luka reminded her, letting her hands creep up from the collar to slowly run her fingers through the tealette's hair.

"Probably not about the extent of it, though."

"Probably not."

"I bet that she would have never seen it coming. Not in a million years." Miku chuckled, quite liking having her hair played with. She ought to return the favor someday. "I want to surprise her."

"Then we shall."

"You'll get in touch with her though, right?"

"Yes, I shall write to her. And," Luka paused for effect, "If she asks outright, then I will answer honestly."

Miku scoffed, but relented, diving back into the embrace. "That's fair. Not like she'll ask though."

"Will you tell your father?"

"I guess I can," the tealette mumbled. 

"You do not want to?"

"I do, I do. He might want to invite you over for dinner or something, though."

"That is fine."

"Yeah, of course it is." Miku thought for a second. "How would I say it, though?"

"Say what?"

"'Hey dad, you know Luka, the one who gifted me that amazing guitar, we've been hanging out, we kissed a few months ago? Yeah, she's...'" she trailed off. "...my..."

"...My...?"

Miku hugged her tighter, burying her blush in the crook of her neck. "My girlfriend?"

Luka laughed, the bright, warm sound echoing through the empty space. "Yes, your girlfriend."

"I'm gonna need time to get used to saying that," the tealette muttered.

"As will I, dearest," Luka said with a kiss to her head. 

"Why don't you say it, then!" Miku grumbled, pulling out of the embrace once again, only to be surprised by the sheer redness of Luka's face. 

Despite her obvious embarrassment, the taller woman kissed her briefly. "This makes you _my_ girlfriend."

This only served to turn Miku scarlet. "God, we really are like two stupid-ass teenagers."

"Indeed. I would not have it any other way."

"Shut up."

* * *

Miku returned to the garage later that afternoon. After their little heart-to-heart, the two women finished measuring every dimension of the room. While Luka hadn't quite settled on how the space would be oriented, she knew she needed a hardwood floor, a railing and a mirror, just to start. The other details would be sorted with time, but she knew what kind of feel she was going for: the space would be welcoming, casual and fun. 

Since she still had to drive all the way to her hotel, she dropped Miku off at the garage some time before dinner. They parted with another kiss and a few small promises; Miku would ask her dad about any pals of his who specialized in overhauling interiors, hardwood floors, large mirrors, anything like that, while Luka would contact Meiko. What went unsaid, however, was what made the tealette hesitate about going inside. 

Her father was still busy; the lights and occasional sounds made that clear. He probably hadn't even noticed that Luka had parked right outside for a moment. Chances were that there was a lot to do. Guilt swelled and simmered in Miku for a moment, but he had insisted that she visit Luka's new studio, to be there for her. Work could wait. 

It was strange how work could wait more and more as it kept piling up. 

Stuffing her hands in her pockets once again, she entered the space with a determined step. There were cars everywhere. The Big Book wasn't on the same page as it had been that morning. His morning coffee mug was still on the workbench. 

"Hey dad."

"Hey!" he replied, his voice muffled from under the car. He scrambled to sit up, forehead slick with sweat, hair matted with grime, and hands stained. "How was your day?"

"It was great," she admitted, slipping off her jacket so she could get right to work. "Let me—"

"Nope, dinner time now. We'll attack all this tomorrow."

"But—"

He shushed her, grabbing her jacket from the coat-hanger and pushing her into their home. "I know, a lot got added while you were away today, but it's lots of little things. We'll handle this, no problem."

Miku listened as he shut the door behind them and went to wash his hands. "Alright, if you say so."

"So tell me, how's the new studio looking? It's not too far from here, eh?"

"It's pretty close by, yeah. Needs a bit of work."

"Always," he said, shaking his head. 

"She might need some professional help—"

"Say no more! I'll get the numbers together after dinner. Sounds good?"

His foresight never ceased to amaze. "...Yeah."

When he started gathering the ingredients for dinner, Miku wordlessly grabbed a knife and started chopping the celery. 

"So, she have an idea of where she's gonna live?" he asked, taking another chopping board and attacking the onion.

"Somewhere close by would be best, of course. She wants to be able to walk to the studio."

"That's fair. The building the studio is in doesn't have space?"

She shrugged. "Guess not. She might be looking for something a little bigger."

"Oh, she hoping to buy a home?"

"I don't think so, at least not right away. But she might want something bigger than a student flat kind of deal. Closer to home and stuff."

He nodded, added the onions to the pan. "That makes sense. How long will she be staying for?"

"Not sure. A long while at least. I hope."

"And how finely are you going to chop that celery?"

Miku paused, blinking back to what she was doing. The celery had been almost pureed by her mindless attention. "Uhm..."

"What's on your mind?"

The woman paused, put the knife down. "I think I have an announcement of sorts?"

"Oh yeah?"

"Luka and I are dating," she blurted, finding that the statement alone was still enough to make her head spin. With a giggle, she added, "We're going out! Officially."

"That's fantastic!" 

"It is!" the two of them burst out in a fit of laughter, with Miku hiding her face in her hands. "I almost can't believe it."

"Oh wow, the day has finally come!" he cheered. 

"Shut up, it's not that dramatic!" 

"Not that dramatic?" he stood in front of her, still all smiles. "All these years, I'm thinking that I'm holding you back. All this work, too many responsibilities, maybe I was a bad role model, I don't know. And then this endless tiptoeing lately...!"

She rolled her eyes at him. "It wasn't your fault."

"Oh please," he sighed, the raw energy of happiness dissipating, leaving him like a sack of potatoes leaning against the countertop. "It doesn't matter anymore anyways. I always knew this was something you wanted, and I'm so glad you found someone who makes you happy."

"Yeah."

He clapped his hands. "So, time to invite her over for dinner! Does she like spicy food?"

"I think so, yeah."

"And she likes pasta?"

"Everyone likes pasta. Even society's elite." She paused to think. "They might put squid ink in it though. Or something like that."

"Fantastic. Put that fancy gizmo of yours' to good use and ask her when she's free: it's time I officially welcome her to the Hatsune family! No squid-ink pasta though, just the regular kind."

Still blushing and still smiling, Miku pulled out her phone and quickly tapped a short message with the old-school keyboard. Despite how long it took to type even a single word, she painstakingly wrote full sentences and words; she figured Luka would like that. Once the message was sent, she joined her father at the kitchen counter once again, where he had taken care of the super-fine celery and was chopping bell pepper. She took her knife and helped. 

"When she does come over, it probably won't be a good idea to ask her about her family," she warned. 

"Oh? What happened?"

"Her father may or may not be in the process of disowning her. That rough patch I mentioned a few weeks ago? She basically told him she was going out on her own."

He shook his head. "Sad. And her mum?"

Miku paused. "Her mum."

"Yeah. What's she think about all this?"

"She... She collects art?"

"Is that fancy lingo for something?"

"No, I just don't know anything else about her." Miku returned to the task. "It was always about her dad. All I know about her mom is that she collects art and stuff. I don't know if she cares, or even knows. Maybe she isn't even alive."

"Well, if he's enough of a prick to disown his own daughter for finding her own way, then maybe the entire family dynamic doesn't care much for what she thinks or knows," he mused.

"Maybe. I'll have to ask. I'm pretty sure she's alive though."

"I won't ask at all," he assured her. "Anything else to be aware of?"

"Nah, that's the only tough spot. Actually, maybe don't ask too much about her so-called 'job' back home. The whole going to parties just to find a husband thing."

"Noted."

"And maybe the handcuffs. That was a weird night."

"Why?"

"Forget I mentioned that."

"Ha, alright." He laughed again, set the carrots to the side. "I can't wait to meet her."

He immediately started humming as he returned to the task, and she couldn't help but smile. "Yeah. Me too."

* * *

About a week later, the two of them stood in Luka's fully refurbished studio. 

"Wow, it's hardly recognizable," the tealette muttered. 

"Your father's contacts lived up to their promises," Luka said proudly. "They did fantastic work."

"I can't believe all this only took a week."

"Well, it took all week," the taller woman pointed out, putting an arm around Miku's waist. "I missed you terribly."

"Oh shush, you big sap," Miku teased before leaning into the embrace. "Missed you too. Texting is amazing but it doesn't replace being with you."

"It cannot compare."

For a moment, the two stood in the doorway. Right across from them were the windows, wall to wall, with a long radiator tucked underneath. The view was mainly the buildings across the street; tall and grey and dark blue, with the names of various businesses in tired, bright colors. The windows directly opposite them showed a handful of people in a gym, jogging in place, details obscured by the foggy glass. 

The adjacent wall to their left was covered in mirrors, huge and immaculate and probably very expensive. The long wall opposite the windows was outfitted with a long railing at waist height, while the final wall was, for the moment, bare. 

It was all beautifully new. The hardwood floor reflected the sunlight, as did the polished wood of the railing. The mirror was spotless, the bare wall a pristine cream. 

"It's beautiful," Miku said with a sigh. "When will you open?"

"I am only starting to advertise; newspaper entries, some posters, perhaps a website. But I plan on opening only after I'm fully settled in."

"I imagine you didn't have much time to look around this past week, with all this going on," the mechanic observed, glancing at the back room. There was new furniture there too, a small desk so Luka could sit and write, and a small changing room with several lockers. The details were hard to make out; the lights were off. "How much time do you still have at the hotel?"

"As much as I need."

"And the car?"

"I shall think about procuring my own, if it is necessary."

Miku nodded, hoping that she would get one; the studio was pretty close to where she lived, only a few minutes away by car, but if they both had a means of transportation then it would make meeting up so much easier. 

"Any news from your dad?"

Luka sighed, making to stand right in front of the tealette so she could embrace her fully. "None so far."

"Gee, he sure is taking his time, isn't he." Miku mumbled into Luka's shoulder. "How do you feel about it?"

"I am not sure. I would like to think that no news is good news, but this could just as well be his way to tell me that I am officially cut from the family."

The mechanic grumbled angrily under her breath. "That sucks. What about your collections? Your stuff?"

"I do not know. He might try to send them over."

"Will you tell him your new address when you have it?"

Luka thought about it for a while. "I suppose it might be a good idea."

"Right." 

"Sweetheart?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you wanting to ask me a difficult question?"

"What?"

"You have been standing very still."

Miku chuckled. "Yeah. I was wondering what your mom thought about all this?"

"Ah."

"I mean, we talked about her before, but you never mention her, really."

"I have no idea what she might think," Luka admitted, pulling from the embrace. She made her way to the windows, leaning on the sill heavily. Miku followed, unsure how close she needed her to be. "I never was very close to her, even compared to my father."

"How come?"

"My father and I had a strenuous relationship at best, but at least he had, let's say, an interest in me and my future. I was never what he wanted, though, and I am quite certain that after my birth, his relationship with my mother suffered. 

"She always was quite distant. She traveled far and often, for long periods of time. Her only concerns were my grades, and even then it was with the obligation that is expected of a parent, not because she sincerely cared. She did not ask about my dreams, friendships or aspirations. I did not mind that too much at first; she was busy, I told myself. My father was also busy and explained her absences frequently. But as I grew and as my father's expectations of me grew as well, I in turn grew to resent her for never intervening; why was she allowing me to become a pawn? Why did she allow him to strip me of my independance? Why did she treat me like my father's possession? Why didn't she care?"

Miku watched her talk and, with every sentence, grow more and more tense. She put a hand on her shoulder, the skin there warm and the muscle unyielding. Luka turned to look at her briefly before casting her gaze out the window once again.

"I have not seen her in years. The only evidence I have that she is alive is that her collection continues to grow. If she visits, then she times it so that we do not cross paths."

"Maybe she hates seeing you live a life that isn't your own."

"If she does, then she does not hate it enough to do anything about it." Luka sighed angrily. "I do not care for her. I do not miss her. I have long grieved not having a maternal figure, for she has not spoken to me since I obtained my Masters degree."

Miku swallowed past the growing lump in her throat. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. This matter is long behind me."

"Right."

Luka sighed again and stood up straight, but instead of hugging her girlfriend, she crossed her arms. Miku frowned, taking in her barely restrained scowl, her tense posture, her beautiful eyes which didn't seem to be looking at anything at all.

Slowly, the mechanic made her way to stand behind her, hands on the taller woman's arms. She pressed a careful yet firm kiss on her shoulder before muttering, "I'm sorry I mentioned it."

Luka shook her head. "No. It's alright. I should have talked about it with you. You are also familiar with the feeling of being abandoned by a parent."

"You can talk about it if you want," Miku conceded, kissing the other shoulder. "But only if you want to; there's no obligation."

Luka nodded. "Maybe someday."

The tealette wondered if she ought to ask if the taller woman truly had put all this behind her, but decided to bite her tongue. She was in the process of potentially leaving her whole family, her home, and everything she knew behind. Even if she had properly said farewell to her absent mother, then it was entirely possible that the new situation made it difficult all over again. 

After a heavy moment, Luka slightly uncrossed her arms so she could hold the mechanic's hands that still rested on her upper arms. Miku took the invitation to hug her from behind, her chin resting on her shoulder. Luka leaned back against her, tall and warm and slowly relaxing. Together they watched the city life before them go on, each moving person, each creature its own little adventure, its own little bundle of worries and dreams. The earth kept spinning, but for a moment, the two of them stood very still together.

The moment ended when the sun was abruptly hidden behind a cloud, casting the studio in a dark shadow. Luka sighed and relaxed entirely, pressing the side of her head against Miku's.

"You're alright?"

"Yes. Thank you, sweetheart."

"Let me know when you need to talk about stuff, alright? I'm here."

"I absolutely will," Luka assured her, her tone already a little lighter, her expression a little happier. She turned to give the mechanic a proper hug. "I will never forget that."

"And you have others who are still there to help you!" Miku added. "Meiko for example, once she's all brought up to speed."

The taller woman chuckled, much to the tealette's relief. "Yes. She was very happy to hear from me, even after all this time."

"Oh, you two have talked?"

"We called a few evenings throughout this past week." Luka nestled more into the embrace, this time being the one to nestle in the crook of the tealette's neck. "As promised."

"Nice! How's she doing?"

"She is doing splendidly and cannot wait for the visit, as do all of our friends. Many have never gone abroad before."

"I can't wait, either." Miku paused a second before asking, "Did she ask though?"

Luka chuckled, the sound traveling through the entirety of Miku's being. "You were right; she did not."

"Told you." 

"You are still intent on surprising her?"

"You bet!" 

Another chuckle. "We shall see how that develops." 

"Yeah," Miku purred, making sure to hold her really tight. "So, tonight you're coming over for dinner?"

"Yes. We have all day to ourselves until then, no?"

"Yep! Not being able to see you for a week meant we could get a lot of work done, too."

"Fantastic." Luka melted into the embrace a little more. "I look forward to meeting your father."

"He's practically buzzing in anticipation," Miku joked. "Can't decide on what he'll make for you."

"I am not picky."

"I know, I know. He just wants to make a good first impression. This will be the first time you two will get to talk properly, you know."

"Seeing what a fine person he has made of you, the first impression has been more than stellar."

Miku rolled her eyes, but kissed the woman's shoulder nonetheless. "You big sap."

"Your big sap," Luka teased, hugging her a little tighter.

"Of course."

"Are you doing anything after dinner?"

"No? Just relax, maybe sleep in tomorrow morning, since we got so much work out of the way. Why?"

The taller woman shrugged nonchalantly. "I was wondering if I may kidnap you right after. I have something to show you." 

"Oh. Sure."

"Wonderful."

Miku stared out the window, mind reeling. Up until that point, they had never been together alone after dark. So, while she wore her best casual facade, her mind was reeling, wondering what the other woman could possibly have in store for her.

* * *

"I hope he didn't interrogate you too much," Miku whispered as the two of them stepped into Luka's car. It was still the rental car, black and red and sleek in the night. 

"Oh, hardly," Luka assured her. "I had a wonderful time."

The mechanic relaxed somewhat. "Good. Was afraid it was too much at times."

"Not in the slightest."

After starting the car, she waved to the man one last time before driving off. Miku waved too, watching as his dark silhouette, as well as the fluorescent-lit garage, disappeared in the distance. Then, she settled in the seat, relieved, well-fed, and as happy as she could possibly be. "He really likes you."

"I am glad," Luka said with a chuckle. "I like him, too. His cooking was excellent."

"Yeah, he's pretty proud of that. He had to learn after mom left."

The taller woman nodded, carefully driving in the direction of the studio. "The more time we spoke, the more I saw parts of him in you. You truly are a chip off the old block, as they say."

"Oh yeah?"

"Absolutely. You are both very hands-on, tactile. Always fidgeting, touching, reaching." Luka chuckled to herself. "It's almost as if you two see more with your hands than your eyes."

Miku stared at her hands; even right then, she had been toying with the seam of her jeans. "Oh. I hadn't really noticed." 

"Anybody could tell that you two have been through thick and thin together," the taller woman said, a sigh hanging somewhere between her words. "It is a wonderful bond that you two share."

"You know, he meant it when he said that you could visit whenever."

"Yes."

"Also when he insisted that if you ever wanted to talk to someone, he'd be there to help."

"I know."

"I'm serious, Luka," Miku softly urged. "It wasn't something that he said just because it's polite. He means it. If you ever feel like you need an adult or something, he'll be so happy to be there for you."

"We are adults."

"You know what I mean."

Luka breathed for a moment, hands clenching on the steering wheel somewhat. "He meant it, then."

"From the bottom of his heart. He's a man of his word too, you know. He just doesn't play mind games along with it."

"That is good to know," the taller woman said with a deep sigh, relaxing once more. "I might take him up on that one day."

"Feel free." Miku wanted to hold her hand, but in the dark night, it probably wasn't a good idea to distract her; Luka was still getting used to the local streets and seemed to hesitate sometimes when it came to finding her way. "Are we going to your studio?"

A laugh. "No. We passed that already."

"Oh. Then where are we going?"

"May I surprise you?"

Miku blinked at her warily, seeing the uncharacteristically impish smile. "Sure?"

"Wonderful!"

Luka didn't drive for much longer, quickly finding an underground parking lot that was hidden away between several tall buildings. She presented a keycard to open the heavy metal door, and the parking within had barely enough space for twenty vehicles. Besides the cars and a couple of doors, there was nothing else there. 

It was unlike any public parking Miku had ever seen.

"Luka," she started, as the pieces started coming together. "Did... Did you find a place to live?"

"Perhaps."

"Wh— Why didn't you tell me?"

"You never asked outright."

Miku stared in awe as the other woman parked and turned off the car. Only when Luka sent her a delighted grin did she say, "You're just the cat who ate the canary, aren't you?"

"Absolutely!"

The two exited the vehicle, Luka all smiles and Miku suddenly wide-awake, brimming with energy. "We spent all day together, and you didn't plan to tell me that you had officially found your own place unless I asked outright?"

"You got very close several times. Sadly, you merely assumed I had no address yet."

Miku rolled her eyes with a laugh, latching onto the other woman's arm as they crossed the echoing garage. "At least now I know you'll play fair with Meiko. You minx."

"It felt fair."

"You bet," Miku said. "If I hadn't taken this well then Meiko would've deserved to know about us first thing tomorrow morning."

"Exactly."

"Good thing we have the same sense of humor."

They stepped into a small stairwell, painted white with shining metal railings. It smelled clean, almost sterile. An elevator sat across from them, which Luka summoned without delay.

"So, when did this happen?"

"I found the address early this week, and have signed the papers yesterday."

"Wow, amazing. You've been here already?"

"Of course! Several times," Luka said with a light laugh. "It came pre-furnished too, so there was no hassle of moving in; I only needed to make a few essential purchases. Add the perfect location, the view," she trailed off as the elevator finally arrived with a ding. "Well, I did not want to hesitate too much. This was too good of an opportunity to pass up."

The elevator was also shiny and clean, all surfaces all polished to the point of reflecting, if they weren't made of mirrors outright.

"Looks like a cool joint so far."

"It is," the taller woman conceded, not only pushing a button on the console, but inserting and turning a key as she did so. The elevator thought for a split second before the button turned green and the doors slid shut.

"Which floor?"

"The topmost."

"Ooh, penthouse kind of place?"

"It is a penthouse, yes."

The elevator dinged, right then, startling the mechanic. She hadn't even felt much momentum or movement from the elevator, and wouldn't ever be able to tell how many floors they had climbed. 

Then the doors opened. The penthouse was, in one word, luxurious. In one large corner, a sleek kitchen entirely in hues of black, white and all greys in between. The hotplates, oven, microwave and washing machine were slick black surfaces, decorated with minimalistic dark grey lines to outline the buttons and lights. The cupboards, fridge, freezer, and all forward-facing surfaces were a milky, shiny white, their handles pure night. The countertop, as well as the island separating the kitchen from the rest of the space, looked to be genuine marble. The lines were somewhat harsh and cold, but it was leagues more welcoming than the vast and dark kitchen Luka had back home.

The rest of the space was much more warm; the flooring there was golden wood, the walls and ceilings were rich cream, the corners where they met decorated with intricately carved baseboards and moulding. The furniture looked to be dark brown leather, comfortable enough to literally sink and disappear into, surrounding dining and coffee tables of similar hues. The ceiling light was golden, maybe even gold, and while the vases were empty, they glimmered enough on their own. A large plush carpet, along with the careful placement of pure black accents throughout the space, tied everything together.

If Miku had the presence of mind to speak, she would have said that it was a perfect blend of her old life of luxury and her new life as an independent woman. It was upscale enough to remind her of home, Miku would say, while still being modest enough to be somewhere entirely new. It was also more practical than showy; there were no empty rooms or wasted space purely for the sake of having it. She would have also said that at least not everything sparkled like the gold and diamonds she had back home.

But that was when her eyes landed on the sights through the window. 

Wordlessly, the two of them stepped forward, crossing the living area without giving it a second glance so that they could take in the shimmering city lights from as close as possible. 

It was absolutely breathtaking. Lights of gold mixed with silver, red, blue, and all colors in between. The faraway ones flickered, got snuffed out, reappeared at times, while nearby beacons shone gloriously, blinding, enchanting. It was no night sky, no faraway stars high above, but a sea of jewels down below, so close you could dream of touching it.

"The previous owner had promised me this sight..." Luka muttered. "I am glad that they had not exaggerated."

"It's absolutely amazing," Miku breathed. "You signed the papers yesterday? You weren't here last night?"

The taller woman slowly shook her head. "Had to check out at the hotel," she said, her voice low and her tone flat.

Miku blinked away from the mesmerizing sight, turned to face the other woman. Tears welled in her eyes, and the tealette could almost see the lump in her throat. 

"I was afraid that they had lied," Luka added. "That I would be disappointed. That I would not get to see..."

Miku slowly grabbed her hand, making sure to stand close. "It's like home, isn't it."

The taller woman could only nod, a thick tear managing to escape her eyelashes and roll quickly all the way down to her chin. "I hated everything I was made to do. I was so afraid of the future in store for me. I wanted nothing more than to leave. But..." She inhaled deeply, and finally said with a quiet sob, "It was home."

Miku shook her head and quickly wrapped the other woman in a tight hug. Luka rested her head on her shoulder, but couldn't tear her gaze from the view. 

"I am sorry," she said. "I was trying my best to be stoic about all this."

"It's alright."

"Why can't finding freedom be easier?" Luka muttered into the leather of her jacket. "Why must leaving such a dehumanizing environment be so difficult?"

"It's alright."

"Why must I cling to the riches, the excess? Why can't I leave it all behind?"

Miku slowly ran a hand down Luka's hair, stroking her back in the same motion. "It's where you grew up. It was all you knew. It's familiar, comforting."

"Yes, but..." Luka sobbed again, quiet, and finally turned away from the sights. "I wanted you to be enough."

The mechanic didn't pause. "I never expected to be."

"It would have been more romantic," she muttered, and despite how silly it sounded, the tone was enough to make it sound serious. "Now I feel like I'm hanging on, already halfway home..."

Miku shook her head, pulled away to look the other woman in the eye. "Would living here make you happy?"

Luka nodded, eyes closed and filled with guilt. Her hands pressed on Miku's, the grip almost desperate. The mechanic wiped away her tears with her thumb, kissed her on the brow even if it meant she had to stand on her tiptoes. 

"As long as you're happy _here_ , then you're less likely to go home. It's ok to want to stick to what is familiar, and it's ok to just like what you like. If sparkly things and glittery sights make you happy, then go for it."

Luka considered her words slowly. "You're not angry at me for hanging on to this?"

"Of course not, geez," Miku almost scoffed, but the fear in the other woman's eyes was too deep for her to scoff at, literally. "Darling, I want you here with me, but that doesn't mean I want to remove you from everything you know and love!"

"You don't think it's vain? Pompous?"

"Of course not! Decorate your home and live however you want, and if that makes you happy then I will be, too." 

Luka breathed deeply, the grip on her hands never loosening. Miku sighed, pressed their foreheads together. "Oh love, how long have you been hanging on to this?"

A shrug. "I thought you would detest it. You hated my home."

Miku shook her head just enough so that she'd feel it, without breaking contact. "I hated that place, yeah. It was too much. But this? This suits you. It's beautiful."

"What if I want more? More like home?"

"Then go for it." Miku waited for Luka to open her eyes again before she pressed on, "We don't have to agree about every little thing, love. If you want to have a huge mansion built in the countryside, then do it. Don't let me stop you from anything you want to do. Ever. Even if I don't understand or even dislike something, if you believe in it, want it, need it, then I'll stand by you." After a moment's thought, she added, "Unless it's murder, or something. I won't really condone that."

That was enough to make Luka chuckle. "You mean that."

"Of course I do. I care about you too much for home decorating taste to matter much at all."

"And what if I would like you to live with me, someday?" Luka quietly asked, her tears coming to a halt. 

"Then all I ask is for control over the garage, and maybe one or two really minimalistic rooms."

"Just one or two?"

"I don't need much," Miku gently reminded her. "As long as we have space we can both feel happy in, then we can meet somewhere in the middle."

Luka thought for a while before muttering, "It would need a pool."

"A nice one, yeah," the mechanic agreed with a chuckle. "We'll always agree about the pool."

"Always."

Luka leaned in to close the gap between them, capturing Miku's lips in a salty kiss. Her movements were especially slow and deliberate, her touches unwavering and precise. By the time that Miku realized that she had been ensnared with one arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist, underneath her jacket, it was too late to even consider escaping. She let her own hands dance over Luka's silhouette, less unwavering but no less enthusiastic, feather-light over skin and more determined over clothes. 

When she felt her hair come undone, the ties almost disappearing entirely, Miku paused, opened her eyes.

Luka was staring at her with a surprisingly sheepish gaze, cheeks flushed and panting somewhat. What caught Miku off guard wasn't the hair ties she was clutching to her chest, as if refusing to return them, but the dilated pupils and the sheer desire that rested in them.

She gulped, the hand on Luka's hip clenching involuntarily. 

"Would you hate me," the taller woman asked, her voice lower than it had just been, "If I asked you to stay here tonight?"

The implications hit Miku like a train and she felt her heart rate kick to maximum overdrive. Trying not to let her voice waver, she muttered, "Uhm, I'd still need to be at the garage tomorrow morning. Early."

"I'll drive you."

A thousand teasing refusals volunteered: Of course you need to drive me; I wouldn't want to cut into your beauty sleep; You'd hate the way I snore. But she saw that Luka wanted this more than her beauty sleep. No, she wanted her.

Heat settled somewhere below her belly button.

"Then I guess there's nothing else keeping me."

Luka held her closer, the hand with the hair ties taking a vicious grip on the collar of her jacket, yet she shook her head. "That was not my question."

"I'd never hate you," Miku muttered, the next sentence so obvious, needing to be said, but so hard to get past her throat. After some mental tug of war, she managed to confess, punctuated with another squeeze to the hip, "I want you."

A relieved smile split through the sheepish expression like a knife through butter. The next second, Luka was on her again, both hands pushing the jacket off. Miku's mind was still reeling, hands at a loss. What could she do? When the jacket was finally pulled away and delicately placed on the back of the couch, she used the momentum to lace her fingers in the woman's hair, finding comfort as she pulled her closer. The air of the apartment was warm and in no way responsible for the outbreak of goosebumps on her arms. 

"I've never done this before," she reminded the other woman between kisses.

"Neither have I, sweetheart," Luka assured her as she somehow managed to both lead the way to wherever the bedroom was and untuck the tank top from Miku's pants. 

"I just—" A deeper kiss cut her off, during which she decided to slip the small straps of her dress from her shoulders. "—Have a little trouble putting my intentions into actions," she finally stuttered when Luka went to kiss down her throat. She couldn't help but punctuate the sentence with a low groan when the taller woman found her pulse point. "I don't want you to think I'm not 100% on board with this just because I have no freaking clue."

Luka chuckled, slowing down her movements to delicately nuzzle the mechanic. "Do not worry. It is clear that, despite how hands-on you are, you are first and foremost a creature of habit."

"Yeah. It's kinda crazy how over twenty years of nigh-devout celibacy hasn't really established a habit of making love to gorgeous women."

The taller woman laughed again, kissed her on the cheek. "Tell me if you want me to slow down."

"I'd rather you tell me what you want me to do."

Luka smiled, kissed her tenderly. Miku felt the woman's cool digits rest on her hips, just under her shirt. Her attention laser focused on that touch, cold and electrifying. She was ticklish there, but her breath caught for another reason. 

Luka whispered, her breath almost nothing more than a puff of warm air, "There is a zipper at the back of this dress."

She simultaneously had a tigress in her arms and was deep in the lion's den. Miku's hand slowly reached up the taller woman's back, she felt the muscles there, warm and strong. She felt her breathing, her power. The more her hand climbed, the more the digits on her hips fanned out, made their way up her sides and dipped under her waistband.

Her breath caught in her throat. 

Finally, her fingers closed on a small zipper. She froze, as did Luka. 

"Now what?"

A warm kiss was pressed to the crook of her neck, and somehow that was the only answer she needed.


	10. Wait

Miku lazily rubbed her hair with a towel while she waited for the water boiler to do its job. It hissed a bit, the orange light like a small beady eye in an otherwise unlit space. Through the windows, she could see that the early morning was slowly starting to creep on the city. The dark blue of night was making way for pale greys and timid reds, casting barely-there shadows on the floors and walls.

Aside from the water boiler, everything was quiet. There was enough furnishing in the penthouse to make sure there was no substantial echo, but the looming weight of pure silence still pressed on her from all sides. Add the near-total darkness of a fading night, and she felt completely cut away from all life, isolated from the world. 

All that mattered was the woman peacefully slumbering in just the other room.

Miku carefully finished drying her hair, eyeing the two mugs of tea, each with a little bag she'd scavenged from the kitchen. There was no sugar to be found, but she'd make do. 

Just as she went to tie up her hair, the sound of bare feet on the floor stole her attention. 

"Morning," the tealette greeted, her voice still somewhat hoarse. "You didn't have to get up."

Luka mumbled something, the tone dismissive. Her eyes were closed, and all she wore was a bathrobe which she hadn't really made an effort of tying shut. She was zombie-like, as disheveled as Miku had ever seen her. 

"I was going to bring you tea in bed," Miku whispered to her, accepting the offered hug. She took the opportunity to tie the knot around the taller woman's waist a bit tighter.

Luka shook her head. "Drive you to work," she slurred into the leather of her jacket.

"I could drive myself, let you sleep on the way there. A few extra minutes of rest for you."

"Hm." Luka shook her head again. "Be with you."

"That's fair," Miku said with a chuckle. "I was gonna snuggle back in bed with you, though."

The taller woman hummed deeply, her weight becoming a bit heavier on the other woman. "How much longer 'til tea?"

"Well, depends on how fast this thing can boil water. Shouldn't be much longer."

Luka nodded. "Smell nice."

"You've got nice soap in the shower. Real nice shower, too."

"Need shower..."

"You're fine, love."

"Feet cold."

Miku laughed, pried from the hug to usher the woman back to where she came from. "Go to bed, love. I'll be right with you, with tea to boot."

Luka only mumbled 'socks' in protest, but otherwise obeyed, clumsily making her way to the bedroom. When Miku returned to the kitchen, the water was finally boiling, so all she had to do was pour them each a mug before following suit.

Luka had turned on a single desk light, but was otherwise once again totally buried in the covers, bathrobe and all. When Miku set down her mug on her nightstand, Luka reached out with an arm to grab the collar of her jacket and pull her down for a kiss.

"Clothes?" she asked sleepily.

"I put all yours' in the hamper. Had to sift through the mess to find my own stuff, after all."

"Hm. Awake for long?"

Miku made her way to her side of the bed. "Just long enough to shower and make tea."

"Jacket off."

"Yes, dear." The mechanic complied, shedding her jacket before pushing away a corner of the blanket so she could sit with her back against the headboard. Once seated, Luka lazily wriggled her way over to her and sat up as well.

"Hair."

Miku handed over the hair ties, letting the other woman carefully and slowly tie her hair up in her regular twintails. Without a brush on hand, Luka used her fingers to comb through the still-damp locks. The gentle, if somewhat gauche movements were like a massage, lulling the mechanic back into a slumber.

"Haircut."

"Yeah, was thinking of getting one soon."

"Not too short."

"Never."

Once done, Luka slumped against her. "How do you get up so early?"

"Force of habit," Miku replied, taking her mug in one hand and pulling Luka close with the other. "I've been doing this for years."

"I thought I got up early," the taller woman groaned, leaving the hug just long enough to retrieve her own mug of tea. She was finally blinking the sleep from her eyes, but her voice was still coated with it. "This is impossible."

"Better get used to it, I guess."

Luka sighed dramatically. "The things I do for love."

"Oh shush. You sleep ok?"

"Dearest, I slept amazingly," the taller woman gushed. "That was probably the best night's rest I have had in weeks."

"Good."

"How about you?"

"Almost couldn't sleep, to be honest," Miku admitted with a giggle. "My mind couldn't shut up. I'm going to crash real hard later this afternoon."

"Oh no."

"No, it's all alright, don't worry."

"What kept you awake?"

"Lots of little things." Miku sipped her tea —which was entirely too bitter, though it hardly mattered— before adding, "How happy I am to be with you, not believing this is quite real, all that corny shit."

"That's good, then."

"Yeah. And at least it'll guarantee a good night's rest tonight for me."

Luka nodded and finished her tea quickly, reaching over to place it on the nightstand before sinking under the covers entirely. 

"I don't think I could wait until tonight to get more rest," she muttered, voice muffled by the covers. "I don't even feel like today has started yet."

"It will soon for me," Miku said sadly. "How long is it to drive to my place?"

"Fifteen minutes at most. With rush hour."

"Then I need to go in a bit."

Luka grumbled. "Someday soon, you will take a day off. And we will spend the whole day right here."

"Sounds like a plan." Miku finished her tea as quickly as she could in order to follow suit, resting her head on the pillow. 

The bed was amazingly comfortable; just warm enough, just soft enough, the blanket just thick enough, the pillow just plush enough. When the two women embraced once again, Luka tucking her head under the mechanic's chin, Miku's hand finding the small of her back, the tealette let out a low grumble. 

"Oh man, I gotta be careful or I'll never leave..."

"Are you sure you cannot stay?"

"I stayed the night without even giving my dad a warning," Miku said with a deep sigh, her eyes already drifting shut. "I can't even call him or anything. It's best I show up on time."

Luka snuggled closer, her breath warm on her skin. "It would be."

"Yeah."

"When do you think you could come back?"

Miku thought about it for a while. "If you ask me, whenever. Any day. But I'd have to run that by my dad first."

"Would it be a terrible idea to ask if you could stay here?"

"What, you mean like move in?"

"Yes?"

"If I'm only ten minutes away, then I guess it wouldn't be too much of a problem. You do know that if I start living and sleeping here, you'll have to put up with these early mornings on a daily basis."

Luka chuckled. "Here I was thinking that you would point out that we have only been officially going out for a little over a _week_."

"Well, I guess there's that, too," Miku mumbled. "Not that it really matters if you ask me."

Luka took a second before replying. "It does not?"

"I mean... We're adults, right? If we've got the big logistics of life taken care of, then it just boils down to what we want and what we feel capable of, and I'd like to live here with you, sure. It'll take some getting used to of course. Over a decade's worth of solid routine being overhauled and all. Some emotional goodbyes. But my dad might like having the whole bedroom to himself, come to think of it. We'd all get more privacy. Wouldn't be too bad of an idea, really."

Luka was still for a moment. "You would not mind living _here_?"

"What, you wanted to find another place beforehand?"

"No, not at all."

"I told you, this place is fine. I like it a lot, actually. Location is perfect, too. And that shower is fantastic."

"You would really move in so soon?"

"You want me to say no or something?"

Luka shook her head, pulled back from the embrace. "I am a bit surprised. We have been so careful for so long. And now..." she trailed off, uncertain of what to say.

"Guess there was a bit more to be scared of, before," Miku said after a moment of thought. "I was real scared that we wouldn't click as well as we both would have liked. That we would have too many differences to settle. There's nothing left to be scared of now, though. At least if you ask me." She thought about it for another moment before asking, "Are you scared?"

"Perhaps a bit," Luka admitted. "We have spent many hours together, but not so long together at home. I am not the best at doing my own chores, for instance; there would be no way for either of us to know how clueless I am in that regard until all my shortcomings are pointed out to me. Who knows what other obstacles would await us?"

Miku smiled warmly. "Aren't you the one who said that every couple will deal with their habits crashing at some point? I'm sure we could work those little things out by being open and honest with each other, like we have been so far. Considering our track record, we'd probably ace this, too. I sure as hell want to." 

The uncertainty melted from Luka's features. "You have a point."

"We don't have to make the jump right away, though," Miku added with a kiss. "We can still take some more time. Maybe you want to live here for a few days, establish your own routine first, see what you can figure out."

"I would like that," said Luka with a slight giggle. "Some practice time."

"And then I could slowly move in my stuff, see how things go step by step. Sound alright?"

"Sounds perfect."

"And hey, even if we do end up having little disagreements despite all that, I can see how much you're trying. You've barely moved in and you've already got soap, spare linens and towels, food in the kitchen, and a hamper! I would have forgotten that last one. You're really trying your best and you're doing great. I'll never forget that."

Luka's smile softened, her eyes quite literally welling up with so much affection Miku was almost alarmed. Before she could ask if she was alright, the taller woman whispered 'I love you,' so softly, it was as if she couldn't quite believe it herself. 

Miku felt her heart soar. 

"I love you, too."

* * *

The sun had just left the horizon when Miku finally stepped into the garage. Her father wasn't working yet, which was odd; normally they were both elbow-deep in the opening procedures by then. She was only five minutes late, granted, but they operated like clockwork.

Somewhat worried, she tried the front door only to find it locked. With a shaky hand, she knocked, and waited with bated breath.

Her father opened the door a second later.

"There you are!" he said with a laugh, welcoming her inside. He was dressed, and there was tea ready on the counter.

"Hey. Uh, everything alright?"

"Sure! Why wouldn't it be?"

"The garage is still closed."

"Oh. Figured you might be sleeping in today, at least just a bit," he said, pouring her another mug. "Thought I'd do the same. You're pretty much on time though."

"Yeah, sorry for being late."

"Oh don't give me that. We'll still be open in time for customers."

She accepted the offered mug, stirred in the sugar. "And sorry for not telling you I wouldn't be here. I didn't know—"

He shushed her. "Not another word. I know how it is. No need to give me the full report of your locations, timestamps, intentions, nothing. You're here on time and that's all I care about."

"If you say so."

"I will say, though," he paused for effect, getting a smile from her. With that, she knew that there truly was no issue between them; he really didn't mind at all. "From now on, we could operate with special weekend hours, yeah?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that our savings are still pretty good, business is good, and your relationship could benefit from some late mornings. I was thinking maybe nine for Saturdays—"

"Nine?!"

"—and ten for Sundays?"

Miku almost dropped her mug. "That's a total of five business hours lost per week! What time would we start working?"

"Same time, nine and ten respectively. We don't need to get a morning head start _every_ day. Not anymore."

She slowly took a seat on the couch. He watched, his morning cheer slowly settling into reserved concern. 

"Not a good idea?"

"I guess I'm just a little surprised," she spoke slowly, hands tightly wrapped around the mug. "All these years, the same routine every day. I guess I could see why I can have more and more time off lately, especially if it's not too busy. But we've never changed our hours before."

He shrugged. "I guess you had a point with the whole 'we need to be more careful with our money' thing you brought up when you came back. We've been doing so much better now that I'm being content with what we have. You were right; the newer wrenches and drills and those fancy gizmos really don't make a difference and now, we can start considering bigger payoffs."

"That's not what I meant, though! I meant, I don't know, maybe we could start a real savings account! Just having a couple hundred doesn't mean we can start living large. This is exactly how we'll end up in a situation that we'll need to urgently spend what we saved! If we really want to get out of living paycheck to paycheck then we need to keep at it."

He listened intently, nodded, sipped his tea. "I suppose that's also true."

"We can't afford to be careless. Literally." She sighed, tea almost entirely forgotten. "Maybe when we have enough for a savings account, when we can turn a tidier profit. But not now."

He nodded again, sat down next to her. "What if I really want you to get some free time?"

"That won't—"

"You're young, Miku. You're young today and now. Your help at the garage is still literally essential, but trust me; five business hours less per week isn't going to hurt us. If we continue to stay open on holidays, it'll make even less of a difference. But you need to make time for yourself and Luka; you can't keep waiting for me to give you the green light." He chuckled before adding, "You're too grown up for that."

Miku shook her head. "I am not leaving you behind."

"I'm not asking you to. I'll take those hours off as well. Hell, maybe we'll see what all that fuss about taking time to recharge is all about. But I'm not letting me, or this job, wedge between you two, in any way, shape or form."

She slumped against the couch. "If our numbers start going down too much, we'll revert back?"

"Sure."

"Just a trial period then. Three months?"

"Sounds fair."

"Alright."

He cheered, relaxed into the worn couch. "Also, which days did Luka want to take for herself?"

"She hasn't decided yet, remember? Depends on when her students can come for class. Why?"

"If this goes well, then maybe, just maybe, we can have an entire day off, too."

"Only if this goes _really_ well."

"That's a deal!"

"Deal."

Miku did her best to still look grumpy about the entire conversation, but truly she was resisting the temptation to reach for her phone and text her girlfriend; no doubt she would love the news.

"Back to work, then!"

She'd have to text her later, though.

Or at least when her dad wasn't looking.

* * *

"Do you have any plans for when Meiko visits?" Luka asked the following Saturday morning. 

"Not really," the mechanic replied between mouthfuls of cereal. "I'd like to plan and stuff. But between the job, you, and not really being able to reply, it feels somewhat pointless. Snail mail takes forever even if I could write back. Besides, I'm pretty sure it would end up best if we just played it by ear."

"Right."

They sat at the kitchen island, Luka to the left and Miku to the right, so that they could hold hands while eating breakfast. They were wearing only their bathrobes, a fresh pair of socks and cozy slippers, with nothing to do but watch the sun steadily rise above the city before them. Miku had sugar in her tea, Luka had her full night's rest, and the day was just getting started. 

Miku wondered if this was what happiness felt like. 

"You have any plans?" asked the mechanic.

"Not personally, no. Meiko has a few ideas, and our friends claim to look forward to exploring 'exotic foreign cultures', as they put it. I have not followed those conversations very closely, though. I fear that our friends will sooner latch on the familiar brands rather than explore the local area in earnest. Plus, well, there is the upcoming job. And you."

"Right. You'll be opening the studio soon, then?"

"After the trip. It gives me time to plan, and deal with that pesky bureaucracy that still lingers."

"Perfect timing, then."

"Quite." Luka sighed deeply, leaning against the mechanic. "Thank your father for me, for giving you weekend mornings."

"Absolutely not. The sooner he gets the impression that this was a good idea, the sooner he'll start taking entire days off," she joked.

"Then I will thank him myself," the taller woman insisted. "I, for one, appreciate this immensely."

Miku rolled her eyes but rested her head against Luka's. "So do I, love."

"You had better."

A distant chime filled the space, startling the two from their embrace. It was a soft song, yet it cut through their morning peace like a jagged knife. Miku hadn't ever heard it before, and the tension that suddenly filled Luka was no good sign. Before Miku could ask what it was, the dancer rushed to her feet and hurried to the bedroom.

With a start, the tealette remembered that Luka charged her phone there, in the drawer of her nightstand. She stood to follow, retying the knot of her bathrobe as she approached. One word gave her pause.

"Father?"

Miku stopped at the bedroom door. The room was dark, the shapes blurry and grey. There, at the back of the room, Luka stood so terribly stock-still that Miku had trouble seeing her. 

The mechanic hesitated, hearing a low voice speak over the phone. 

Luka didn't nod, shake her head, move in the slightest. Phone to her ear, hugging herself with her free arm, in nothing but her bathrobe, she looked so terrifyingly frail and vulnerable.

Miku almost forgot how to breathe. She waited there, heart in her throat, the seconds passing like a feather through honey. When Luka finally hummed in reply, the tone entirely neutral, the mechanic took a single breath before waiting again. 

"I understand."

The tealette stepped forward, slow and deliberate, the voice becoming louder but never becoming intelligible. When she was finally close enough to touch the other woman, she carefully hugged her from behind. Luka's free arm latched onto her like she was grabbing onto a lifeline. 

"Yes please."

The voice was quiet for a moment, before continuing in a pained, though softer tone.

"Very well."

That was when Luka took an immensely deep breath, and Miku breathed with her.

"Yes, she is here."

Miku perked up, but Luka squeezed her arm. The other voice was quiet again, before asking a series of short questions.

"You will. I am doing well, yes. Very well. Get some sleep, father. It's late. Yes, we shall talk soon. Goodbye."

He hung up before Luka lowered the phone from her ear.

"Are you alright?" Miku carefully asked, her voice uncomfortably loud.

"I am, I think." Luka breathed deep again, turning to hug the tealette. "He has decided not to disown me."

"Oh!"

"It would be a dishonor to our ancestors, who have held onto the company for so long despite so many obstacles," Luka recited. "This would be just another obstacle to overcome."

"Huh."

"He is not happy about it. But he would hate selling even more. He also mentioned something about bad press."

"What, disowning your gay daughter is bad for business?"

"Perhaps. I did not listen to that too carefully."

Miku nodded slowly, taking in Luka's state. She wasn't shaking. She wasn't sobbing, at least yet. But she wasn't smiling or laughing. 

"So what now?"

"Well, he would like to meet you."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No."

"Does he know what I do for a living?"

"He never asked."

"Jesus Christ. I'll be the one getting you disowned."

"I would not be too sure," Luka said with a heavy sigh. "He never did believe that wealth was a way to measure the worth of a man."

"It is to measure the value of a husband."

"Yes. He would detest you as a potential spouse of mine. But he would probably admire your character."

"I guess that's something."

"It would not be soon, thankfully. He still wants to come to terms with this situation, as he put it."

"What about your stuff?"

"At my request, he will be sending my guitars here. Little else; he promised that if I ever needed to return to any of our homes, the door is always open. My other things will be waiting there for me."

"’Needed’, huh? Doesn't want you coming back too soon just for shits and giggles, then."

"I suppose not."

"The balls and dances are over, then?"

"Yes. At least for the duration of our relationship."

"What? If we break up he's sending you back to the oil princes?"

"If we break up, then I am never returning there."

"I sure as hell hope not. Get yourself a wife before you even step foot on that continent."

At that, Luka laughed. "That is sound advice."

Miku grumbled. "What else? Anything from your mom?"

"Nothing from her, as is custom. I never expect anything from her."

"Alright." Miku sighed, which the taller woman mirrored. "Guess that didn't end too badly, all things considered."

"Yes. All things considered. I suppose it is fortunate that his hatred for my identity is outweighed only by his pride. It is fortunate that I am halfway around the world, and an innocent stranger is involved, stopping him from ignoring my wishes entirely and returning to business as usual through brute force."

"If you put it like that..."

"He is still deeply unhappy with me. He always has been, but never to this extent." Luka's arms tightened around the mechanic. "He does not respect me, does not love me. He will never love me. Nothing I do will ever convince him that I am worthy of being loved."

Miku felt tears well up in her eyes. "Well, he's an idiot. A big, stupid, rich idiot."

"He is."

"He has no idea what he's missing out on! Fucking loser."

Luka chuckled, but Miku felt the telling damp spot on her shoulder; she was crying, and had been for a minute. 

"Meiko and my dad love you to bits," the mechanic went on. "And their judgement is pretty sound if you ask me. And your friends, too. I don't know them at all but they seem kind of sane at least. And I don't know, I love you so much it hurts, but I feel like I'm kind of biased, to be honest."

Luka laughed, pulled from the hug to kiss her. Her lips were salty again, there was a bitter undercurrent, but Miku hoped that the other woman could feel her sincerity. 

"I'm here for you," she whispered when they parted. "I always will be."

"I know."

"We all are. No matter what."

"Thank you."

Miku kissed her again. "Can I do anything more to help?"

Luka shook her head. "I am afraid of asking any more from you."

"Why?"

"You are already late for work."

The tealette paused, shook her head. "Work can wait."


	11. Tomorrow

"Today's the day, eh?"

Miku chuckled to herself, elbow-deep in a car, trying to figure out where some random leak was coming from. "Dad, it really is as if you're looking forward to it more than I am."

He patted her on the shoulder, making his way to another vehicle. "Meiko's back in town! It's a glorious day."

"It is."

"And now that Luka doesn't have to wait for a reply from her father, there's nothing stopping you all from having a good time."

She shot him a mocking glare. "Except for work?"

"There's that," he said, his voice changing as he disappeared under a vehicle. "But you'll have more than enough time, I promise!"

Ever since they had agreed to open later on weekends, their workload had shifted slightly, but not dramatically. The change was most noticeable on Mondays, especially when they had a large volume of work to complete soon, but even then it didn't stray too far from their normal routine.

Plus, Miku couldn't help but admit that she appreciated the extra time with Luka, and more than she should say. By then, she regularly spent Friday and Saturday nights at her place, and visited her after work often. 

Luka had used the free time she had to finalize the studio, finish outfitting her home, and purchase her own car. The new vehicle was electric, a beautiful sleek black with silver detailing. Most importantly, it was second-hand. Once that was done though, and all she had to do was wait for bureaucracy to catch up and for Meiko to finally visit, she would drop by the garage and chat with the two mechanics.

Miku loved it. Her father and girlfriend got along wonderfully, and he enjoyed showing her the basics of vehicle maintenance, and teaching her what to look out for if she ever had to get her vehicle serviced by a shifty mechanic. When her father was too busy to chat, Miku liked showing off a bit, sharing her own knowledge, unafraid of getting her hands dirty and adding a bit of showmanship in otherwise mundane tasks.

When neither were free for conversation, Luka put on some ballroom music and wrote a few notes for her upcoming classes. She was very detailed and meticulous, sometimes putting parts of a song on loop so she could get in the right mindset. Neither mechanic minded; the music was entertaining if it wasn't easy to push to the back of their minds. 

That day, however, Luka was gone, picking up Meiko and all their friends from the airport. 

"Any idea of how long she'll be staying?"

"She kept going back on what she'd said before," Miku called back. "Anywhere between two weeks and a month, I'm guessing. They probably haven't even decided yet themselves. Her husband needs to get the tour, too."

"Oh! Will his parents come along?"

"Maybe. Meiko didn't say."

"Well, either way, with two weeks' time you'll surely get a full day's worth of catching up in there somewhere."

"Yeah, I'm not too worried."

"Any places you wanted to visit?"

"Well, turns out an old library we liked to visit has been turned into a nightclub. Meiko apparently loves those, so we might swing by there."

He laughed, the sound booming from under the vehicle. "You hate those places!"

"Meiko and I will walk by. Luka will be the one who will accompany her inside."

He laughed again. "That's what teamwork is all about."

"Yep!" She chuckled, went to fetch a part. "Otherwise, we’ll just see if the same old places are still standing, visit the ones that are. A little trip down memory lane."

"Will Luka be tagging along?"

"At her insistence, no."

"Sounds good. You've both waited long enough to be just the two of you."

"You can say that again."

"Does Meiko still not know about you two?"

"Latest report says that she has still not asked outright," Miku announced with glee. 

"Oh dear," he chuckled. "She always did have patience for your sense of humor."

"I can't wait to tell her more dad jokes."

"You ever tell any of those to Luka?"

"Nah. That always was more of a thing just for us. That and the pranks."

He laughed. "That's right."

Over the course of the next hour, they swapped memories of the various hijinks the two of them used to get up to, before work got the better of them and the garage was only filled with the noise of tools, metal, and engines. 

After a much-needed lunch break, they were back at it, Miku staring at the engine while her father tried starting the car, an ancient beast that probably should have crumbled to dust a lifetime prior.

"You see anything?"

"No... Try again?"

He grumbled. "Most cars nowadays are smart enough to just tell you what's wrong..." He turned the key. "How about now?"

"Nothing."

"Damnit."

Miku thought for a second, about to suggest that they would switch roles, until two hands suddenly slammed down on her shoulders.

"Jesus—"

"Surprise!" 

It was unmistakably Meiko's voice. Miku turned around just in time for the brunette to encompass her in a massive bearhug.

"Long time no see, bestie!"

The mechanic laughed, feeling the other woman lift her in the air. "Put me down!"

"Hug me first, you asocial wrench monkey!"

"You sure about that?"

Meiko put her down right then, taking in Miku's state. "Oh sheesh, what did you get on your hands?"

"Nothing more filthy than the usual."

"Meiko!" Miku's father's voice boomed in the garage. "What did I say about surprising Miku while on the job?"

"At least I waited until her hands weren't in the car, sir," the brunette shot back, pouring sarcasm all over the last word. "How've you been, old man?"

They embraced as well, his equally greasy hands engulfed in a towel. "Just fine, Meiko. How about you?"

Miku watched the reunion unfold, not quite believing her eyes; it had been over a decade since Meiko had set foot in the garage. She had imagined this for so long, it almost felt like she was merely dreaming again.

A towel draped over her head snapped her out of it.

"Surprise," Luka echoed, her voice quieter.

"Sheesh, we're all being sneaky aren't we," Miku said with a smirk, using the towel to clean her hands. "Thanks."

"You are welcome."

After making sure that Meiko and her father were still engrossed in their conversation, Miku whispered, "How are you feeling?"

"This is a welcome distraction," Luka whispered back. "My father has written to me."

"Anything serious?"

"No. It is almost discomforting."

Before Miku could ask what she meant by that, Meiko announced. "So we're finally all here! After all these years!"

"It almost doesn't feel real," the tealette said, this time returning the hug when it was offered. "How was your trip?"

"Just awful. Babies, turbulence, delays, we got the complete collection." She huffed. "Worth it, though."

"Where's the rest of the troupe?"

"Half of them are over there, being corralled by Luka," Meiko said with a grin. Sure enough, Luka had seemingly teleported to the other end of the garage, where a familiar blonde and redhead, and a slightly less familiar man were getting a bit too close to some large devices. Seeing this, Miku's father darted off towards them as well. "The other half didn't fit in Luka's car, so at least one representative per room all took a taxi and went to the hotel to check in."

"Alright." 

"So tell me, how have you been?"

"Just fine."

"'Just fine'?" Meiko barked a laugh, sidling closer. "You got Luka to move here, far away from her dad! Holy shit Miku, you did what none of us ever could. She's free!"

"Terms and conditions may apply," Miku reminded her. "But yeah. She's opening a dance studio after you guys leave and everything."

"She told us all about it! It's nearby, yeah? We'll all have to visit! We're all so proud of her."

"It's close, and a sight to see, for sure. You should definitely take a look when you can."

"What, not coming along?"

Miku shrugged. "I can visit the studio whenever. Better prioritize finding time to catch up while you're here."

"Don't tell me you're still such a workaholic."

"Still not by choice, but we're lightening up a bit."

"And she's definitely taking a few days off so you two can spend time together!" Miku's father interjected, returning to the conversation. "Ideally on weekends, but you two will have to work out the days."

"That sounds better," Meiko said. "Don't worry too much about time, though. I'll be here a while."

"Yeah? How long?"

"Our friends will be here for two weeks, but Kaito and I will stick around for a month."

"Wonderful!" the man cheered. "His parents here, too?"

"Yep. All the in-laws meeting up and getting acquainted. Hopefully they'll get along," Meiko said with an uneasy chuckle. "Then there's the sight-seeing for the friends, and catching up with just you and me! Tons of it!"

"You sure you'll manage, juggling so many people?" Miku asked, watching how Luka brought the others outside; those were just three friends and it was already a handful. 

"Luka's apparently seen quite a bit since she arrived here, so she has elected to do a few tours on those days, keep the masses busy."

"Oh, alright. If it works."

"We'll figure it out. So, when are you free?"

Miku grinned, brought back to those long-gone teenage years, when Meiko would ask that after school so that they could fix their next playdate. "Let's say Saturday. We can go tour town like we used to."

"Perfect, we'll make that work."

"I can come pick you up at the hotel."

"You know where I'm staying?"

"Luka's driving you, right?" After a nod, she said, "Then she'll text me the place."

Meiko’s eyes widened. "Text? Dear Miku, do you own a..."

"Phone? Yeah. Prepaid and cheapest plan on the market though."

The brunette almost didn't seem to listen, or care. "I'm so proud of you!"

"Just so Luka and I can keep in touch and stuff. What with everything going on."

"You're being such a good friend!"

"Sure, yeah. It also means that if you have a change in schedule or something, just tell her. I'll hear of it."

Hearing this, Meiko mock-wiped a tear from her eye. "This is the most magical day of my life."

Miku chuckled. "Any plans for today?"

"Well, we all need to get checked in real soon. The rest of the party is waiting for us. Other than that, recuperate from the flight, and dinner at Luka's place!"

"Sounds great."

"Will you join us? We're gonna get stuff delivered, spoil ourselves a bit."

The mechanic looked over her shoulder, looking for her dad. He already had a thumb up by the time she found him. "Guess that's a yes. I'll show up right after we close."

"Just be back here by the time we open tomorrow!" he called through the garage. "No sleeping in on Thursdays!"

"Yep!"

"Wonderful!" Meiko sighed, hugged her friend again. "I'm so glad we finally have time to catch up. I can't wait for Saturday."

"Neither can I."

"And you have to tell me how in the world you managed to convince Luka to get her own life," the brunette urged. "I don't know what happened that night but you must have made her see the light or something."

Miku chuckled. "For sure. You could ask her, though."

"I did, but she's so dismissive about it all!"

"Is she, now."

Meiko blinked. "Oh my god, it's like you know her better than I ever did. You two are being sneaky together."

"Maybe."

"This evening, you two are telling the story. The whole thing."

"Yes, m'am."

"It's about time we heard the unabridged version."

"I promise you'll hear all about it."

"Good."

The unfamiliar man called for Meiko, something about the hotel.

"Oh man, everybody is waiting for us. This evening, then!"

"I'll be there."

With one last hug, Meiko darted out of the garage, and Miku watched the sleek car drive away. 

It was over so quickly, it almost felt like the entire conversation hadn't happened at all. It still felt dream-like, surreal. Every passing second, so precious and valuable, floated away without delay, intangible.

Hopefully, that evening would be more grounded in reality.

"Dad, can I borrow the car?"

* * *

Miku had no clue what to expect of that evening. She mulled over the facts during the drive there, what she knew and didn't know, wondering how she would best handle the situation.

She was heading to an event where she knew exactly two people, and had briefly met half of the others. Kaito and his friends would be there too, all men she had never spoken to. They were all close friends of both Meiko's and Luka's, so she had no reason to fear that they would be disagreeable.

There was, however, the looming situation with Luka and her father, and Miku had absolutely no idea how much the others knew about it all. They were probably cheering their friend's budding independence and freedom, disregarding the emotional damages altogether. If they were to bring it up, Miku had no idea of how much of an emotional fence she would have to be. Luka could handle herself, and was infinitely better socialized than her, but the mechanic could tell that she was still struggling with the topic itself. He had written to her, too. His words had too much destructive power, and Miku longed to know what he had said. 

Then there was the still-secret relationship they shared. Luka had texted her twice throughout the day; the latest asked her what kind of sushi she liked best, but the first one stated that nobody had asked, yet. As far as Miku knew, that was still the case. 

The tealette felt that she had seriously underestimated the complexity of the situation, and this silly prank on top of it almost felt like too much. At least it would be resolved quickly, since she didn't intend to hide it per se. 

Carefully, the tealette pulled into the small garage, the van even more of an eyesore compared to the other vehicles parked there. Fortunately, there was one guest parking available, so Miku didn't have to scout for a place outside. All she had to do was park, then summon the elevator and make her way up.

Without a key though, she couldn't access the penthouse floor directly. She pulled out her phone to text her, the gesture already a habit. No incoming texts waited for her. No warnings of any kind. 

"I'm here."

Ten seconds later, the elevator climbed to the top. With each passing moment, Miku hoped more and more that they would get handcuffed together again, so they could walk away from the party, just the two of them, and leave the massive mess behind. 

If only it could be so easy. 

Before the elevator even came to a stop, the roar of conversation grew, drowning out the ding. When the doors slid open, the noise practically assaulted her.

There were far too many people in the living room. There was Lily, Cul, Gumi, Aria, which she knew vaguely. There was the man from the garage, tall with purple hair. Other men, hardly more than vaguely familiar faces from the wedding. There was Kaito, his parents, Meiko and her parents. In the middle, ever the gracious hostess, was Luka. 

The picture was perfect. Lacquered surfaces, deep and rich colors, fancy people with ironed shirts, practiced smiles, hands occupied with expensive drinks made of liquid gold or ruby. Men with ties and cufflinks and women with shiny jewelry and brushed hair. Even Luka had dressed up, wearing a long gown the mechanic didn't recognize, and makeup she hadn't seen in months.

For a second, it felt like her heart was being squeezed, pressed like a lemon in a juicer. It hurt violently, from the inside out, to feel like an alien in a dwelling she was starting to call home. She didn't recognize the place, or the person.

That feeling evaporated completely when Luka smiled at her, her face bright like a midday sun. She waved her over, catching Meiko's attention. 

"Miku, you're here!" the brunette cheered. "Come over, let me introduce you!" 

The tealette didn't even bother removing her shoes; everybody still had theirs' on. Nervous and mute, she let Meiko talk, unable to properly register the new names and faces. There was a Gakupo, a Yohio, a Dex. Classmates of old, coworkers turned friends, and everything in between. 

They were all smiling and seemed very nice. There were just very many of them, and she stuck out like a bruised and sore thumb with her regular jeans, her ever-present jacket, and the stubborn stains on her hands.

"Nice to meet you all," she muttered, barely audible over the noise of the crowd. Once she felt that it was ok, she made her way to Luka.

"So many people," she whispered to her, accepting the offered glass of water.

"Are you alright?"

"I will be. Bit of a shock, that's all."

One of the men pulled up an extra chair so that they could all sit in a circle around the living room coffee table. Space was made so she could sit next to Luka; she couldn't bear parting from her just yet. 

She spent a few minutes watching the crowd talk and interact, simultaneously wishing that Meiko, who was oh so far away, would pay her more attention, and that she wouldn't speak to her that evening. Saturday would be better for them to catch up; here, she would be forced to speak before an audience, which she loathed. Yet speaking to nobody at all and playing spectator was only somewhat more tolerable. Sakine, the only other familiar face at the table, was also sorely unavailable; she was busy chatting with Kaito’s parents. At the bachelorette party, at least she had the goal of being there for Meiko. Right then, she was only waiting for the weekend.

As the conversations continued, Miku tried to pay attention, but the brouhaha was too distracting. Hearing Meiko was all but impossible. She resigned herself to staring at the grain of the wood of the coffee table, letting vaguely familiar words like 'studio', 'party', 'wedding' float around her without ever hoping to be able to add to the conversation. Part of her was waiting for the food to arrive, another for Meiko to finally start interrogating her, and a final part wanted everyone to leave so she could go to bed and snuggle with Luka. It went so far that she almost forgot that she had hoped to tell Meiko about them. The company was altogether too much and too unfamiliar. 

"So, you were at the wedding, too?"

Miku blinked, realizing that she was being spoken to. Gakupo, the man with the long hair, was looking right at her, eyes kind and smile easy.

"Yeah."

"I don't believe I saw you there."

"Not surprised. I wasn't looking to make an impression."

He laughed, the sound surprisingly sincere. "A real shame, I don't think I would have forgotten you. I'm pleased to finally meet you."

"Likewise."

"Say, that was your garage we visited on our way to the hotel?"

"Yeah."

"Very sweet location. Is that your hobby?"

"It's my job."

His smile faltered. "Interesting."

"Do you hang out with Meiko a lot?"

"No, sadly not. I spend more time with Kaito."

"That explains a bit."

He laughed again, but dodged the subject. "Say, Luka has failed to serve you a real drink. Here, we have a wonderful Swiss red, straight from the Lavaux—"

"No thanks."

His smile faltered again. "Maybe you would prefer a Spanish—"

"Luka didn't fail squat."

"Pardon?"

"I don't drink."

"A shame. May I ask why?"

"No."

"Very well." His smile had grown an edge. "May I ask how in the devil's name you have finally convinced Luka to free herself from her father's clutches?"

"I'm guessing you weren't very convincing?"

"No, and I haven't the faintest idea why."

"Yeah, a real stumper." Miku stood. "Excuse me. I'm going to go get more water."

He gave her a terse nod, turning to his other neighbor before she could take a step. She fled to the kitchen, the grip on her glass like iron. Luka followed close behind.

"I am sorry," she spoke softly enough as to not disturb the main conversation. They were still in view of the main room, the kitchen island the only thing separating the two spaces. 

Miku sighed deeply, letting the water overflow in her glass, watching it escape down the drain. "You heard that?"

"In part."

The mechanic shut the tap. "Luka?"

"Yes, dearest?"

"...I don't want to be here."

The taller woman stood still for a moment. "Do you wish to go home?"

"Yeah. No. Maybe." She sighed again. "I don't want to go home 'cause then I'll be leaving with all these thoughts in my head."

"What sorts of thoughts?"

Miku turned to look at her. She was gorgeous, the dress hugging her just right, the makeup making all her best features stand out. Her hair was made to perfection, brushed, braided and tied up, pinned with an elaborate floral thing Miku didn't know the name of. She was the picture of absolute beauty. "I have no fucking clue how I made it into your life," she finally choked out. "God, I'm such a fucking—"

Luka silenced her with a hand on her shoulder. She made to move closer, stopping herself with a careful glance to the crowd; they hadn't taken notice of their interaction quite yet. "You made it into my life for all the reasons they have failed," she whispered to her. "I love you, sweetheart.”

Miku nodded, blinked away tears. "Right. I'm sorry. I just— I really don't fit in here. I don't like being reminded of everything that's between us."

"Not between, not any longer. This is behind us."

Miku smiled a bit, wiped away a tear with her sleeve. "Yeah."

"Do you still wish to go home?"

"I don't know. Just got here. I don't want to make a bad impression on your clique." After a short pause to think, she admitted, "Then again, staying might do the same." 

Luka laughed, and the sound was so much better than everything else Miku had been subjected to hearing that evening. "It might do them some good, to be exposed to somebody new. It did for me."

Miku rolled her eyes, wanted to step closer. "You sure you don't mind being seen with the alley cat that I am?"

"Not in the slightest. And if they mind—" Luka started, taking a step forward, "—then they will no longer matter to me."

"Oof. You still want to break the news to Meiko?"

"More than ever."

"Here and now?"

"Whenever you wish, dearest. I'll let you do the honors."

Miku sputtered. "Me? That's too much responsibility, geez."

"This is not your comfort zone," Luka softly told her. "I'd like to let you choose the moment you feel most comfortable."

The mechanic's heart melted: she wanted nothing more than to hold her. "Well, if I'm gonna stick around, then you're gonna need to give me a crash course in Entertaining The Rich 101. God, I don't know how you do it."

"Practice makes perfect. When you can entertain twenty strangers, a dozen friends is hardly a challenge."

Miku hummed, her eyes tracing the lines of her dress. The crowd in the room was sounding more and more distant by the second; she could almost reach up, maybe touch her shoulder. The dress left them bare, after all. It was a rare sight. 

"Any advice?"

"Listen and do not be afraid of joining conversations."

"I don't like butting in."

"'Butting in' is an artform, and requires the aforementioned practice."

"You two alright, over there?"

Miku blinked, turned her head to see the room; she hadn't imagined it, the room had actually gotten quieter, and everybody was looking. 

Luka chuckled. "Case in point."

"Right," Miku grumbled, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

"We were merely conversing," the taller woman explained easily to the room. 

"Needed some more water."

Miku caught the flicker of concern in Meiko's eye. Could she tell how amused the rest of the room was, how puzzled they all were, seeing the princess and the pauper mingle? Could she tell that they clearly thought it all to be a big joke of some sort? Or was Miku the one seeing things?

"Well scoot your butts back here," Lily said, voice light and worry-free. She stood, holding up her glass. "For I would like to raise a toast."

"Yes!" Meiko cheered, holding up her glass. 

Everybody followed suit, the two women joining the group once again, the mechanic wary. When they were seated, the blonde cleared her throat. "I would like to take a moment to congratulate our dearest friend Luka for finally finding freedom!"

"After all these years!" one of the men added.

"Yes, after all this time. You had us worried there for a second, you know," Lily said with a little wink. "But you finally did it!"

"Cheers!"

Miku rose her glass with the others, though didn't quite share the enthusiasm; they kept rubbing in the fact that it had taken so long. Didn't they realize what exactly Luka stood to lose?

If she was bothered, Luka didn't show it. Instead, she thanked her friend for the kind words before stepping forward. "I, in turn, would like to thank Meiko."

The brunette scoffed. "What did I do?"

"You had a beautiful wedding, preceded by a wonderful party with your closest friends. If it hadn't been for that, I never would have met Miku."

The mechanic felt the blush come. She hadn't exactly been around the other woman often while she was hosting her events, but something told her that she was just about to make a whole show out of it.

That was how the rich entertained, right? With a show?

"Meeting you was arguably the most transformative moment of my life," Luka continued, directing her attention towards the mechanic. "And I never would have found the strength and courage to move out, if it hadn't been for you." 

"You're a big sap, you know," Miku mumbled, wishing she hadn't been put in the spotlight. 

"Always," Luka said with an easy smile. She was beaming, really, an expression Miku hadn't seen all that often. With a skip of the heart, she realized that not only was the other woman happy, but so immensely proud. Proud of her. In fact, she was showing her off. She felt her cheeks redden some more. "You made me see how much control I truly had over my own life, that I was capable of more change than I could have ever dreamed, and how much I stood to gain if I only dared to take the risk."

Under Miku's confidant —if reddening— exterior, she felt a swarm of butterflies. She had no words to describe how much she loved her. Her hand around the glass clenched, the one in her pocket balled into a fist: it was taking her an extreme amount of willpower not to kiss her right then and there.

Luka wasn't finished, though. "Most importantly, you have taught me that much like friendship, family is something that we can create and shape. A lot has changed in the past few months. But, after all this work and all these weeks, thanks to you I am finally home."

Miku couldn't take it anymore, the lump in her throat swelling to the point she thought she might just as well burst into tears. 

"You're the biggest sap," she sputtered, all but falling into the other woman's open arms. She barely even remembered that they were still holding glasses, almost spilling her water on the floor.

Luka would only smile, as proud and happy as Miku had ever seen her. "I know."

"Three cheers for Miku, then!" Meiko exclaimed.

While the room was busy cheering, Miku whispered so only Luka could hear, "I love you a bunch, you know."

"I have never felt more certain about anything."

The tealette squeezed her eyes shut, mentally willing the others to leave. "More than I can say."

Luka held her tighter, and Miku wished that she would just kiss her. She was so close already, the moment would be perfect, so why wouldn't she kiss her?

Miku pulled back from the hug just enough to look the other woman dead in the eye, gently grasp the back of her neck with her free hand, and pull her in again for a deep kiss.

Luka didn't show even the slightest reservation, meeting her halfway and reciprocating eagerly. Miku couldn't contain the contented hum. She had needed the kiss, that familiar touch in such a wildly unfamiliar setting. She felt Luka pull her close as well. Surely the wine glass was perched in her hand gracefully, somewhere, but Miku could only focus on her arms around her neck and waist, the delightful closeness.

This? This was home. This was familiar.

And nobody could take this from her.

Somewhere in the background, Meiko was cheering.

That was her cue. Miku separated from the taller woman, allowing her to wrap her in an even tighter embrace, so she could shoot her best cat-ate-the-canary grin she could possibly muster to the room. Everybody was dead silent and staring, except for Meiko, who was positively unhinged.

"You two!" Meiko exclaimed, on her feet, gesturing to them. "When?"

"The party, believe it or not!" Miku replied, leaning her head against Luka's shoulder. 

That was when the room rumbled back to life, murmurs and questions directed at Luka mostly. But Miku only had eyes and ears on the brunette, who exclaimed, "You said...!"

"I lied!" 

"And now...?"

"We're totally dating," the mechanic replied. "And if you don't like it you can suck it," she added, directed more towards the others in the room. 

"Now, now," Luka chided with a chuckle before pressing a kiss to her brow. "None of that."

"This is my home and I'll say what I want," Miku shot back, sticking her tongue out. 

"This is the best day of my life!" Meiko almost yelled, parting the crowd as she approached them. Kaito only grinned with a healthy roll of the eyes in the background. "Is this why you came here, Luka?"

"Yes."

"And you helped her?"

Miku nodded. "I did."

The joy simmered down: Meiko was making a visible effort to contain herself and be serious, but they could still hear the barely-restrained joy bubble past all her defenses. "You two better take care of each other! You're my bestest of friends, and if either of you hurt either of you...!"

Luka laughed. "Never."

"I mean it!" 

"We know," Miku assured her. "And thank you. What Luka said is true: without you, we never would have met."

"I'm so happy for you two!" Meiko blubbered. "I mean, yeah, thank goodness for me, right?"

The couple laughed, the confused stares from the others almost completely forgotten. Miku had her love and her best friend's blessing. What more could she want?

* * *

"Oh wow, I almost can't believe it," Meiko said dreamily.

"Yeah. It doesn't feel real sometimes."

The brunette chuckled, but didn't reply straight away. They stared at the bustling streets in silence for a moment, taking in the sights, the names, the people. Some were familiar, old faces that have withstood the test of time. Others less so, new brands and owners replacing those that they had somehow already forgotten. 

The two friends had spent most of the day touring the old favorite places, getting their favorite snacks and saying hello to their favorite people. While they walked, Miku told her everything that had happened since the bachelorette party, at least from her perspective. Luka had already told her half in the days since the soiree, but Meiko wanted to hear it all again from her best friend.

"It's like a fairy tale," the brunette said at some point. "Two people meet at a party, against all odds, fall in love, escape to the edge of the world together, live happily ever after."

Miku chuckled. "I guess, yeah. We'll have to see about that last part."

"Right, of course," Meiko said with a smirk. "There's no such thing, really."

"How's your Happily Ever After going?"

"Oh, it's been amazing. We haven't decided where we want to settle down yet, but we're discussing our options. We're still young, of course. We want to travel, too. See the world, all that jazz." Meiko chuckled again. "All that said, it's not the same as it used to be. We're already past the honeymoon phase, somehow. But it's just as good."

The mechanic nodded. "Let me know if you two decide to come back here."

"We might, we might. There's so many possibilities, though. Europe is a great place to be right now."

"You could do anything."

"We could." Meiko hummed. "You and Luka too, I hope."

"Well, she's a lot more free than I am. If she ever wants to move anywhere, she can. I'm still bound to the garage."

"With more free time than ever, though."

"True."

"How's that working out?"

"We only just implemented that," Miku reminded her. "But so far, I think I like it."

Meiko hesitated for a second before asking, "You think that if Luka were to ever, I don't know... Help out?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, financially. Would you accept that?"

Miku paused. "I don't know."

"She'll offer to, one day."

"I'm not so sure. She—"

"I know you two already had that conversation," Meiko hurried to explain. "But things are a bit different now. Once she gets a nice and cozy income from the studio, she'll be able to spoil you more and more. And since you two are literally on the verge of living together, I bet that she's going to want you around a lot more. Maybe even do more classic couple stuff, like take a week's vacation somewhere."

"Right." The mechanic thought about it for a second. "Suppose she secured our financial future entirely, then that won't mean we'll stop working altogether. We enjoy what we do, my dad and I. It’s important work, too. Someone has to do it. So that won't ever stop."

Meiko nodded. "Of course."

"I don't think she'll just remove our need for work, ever," Miku went on. "I'm not even sure she'll ever ask to help at all. But, hey, I wouldn't be entirely against the idea of more free time. I just don't want to be made redundant."

"And what if she wants to move to another place, a bit farther away? Get the classic house in the country kind of deal."

"So?"

"Would you follow her?"

Miku slowly shook her head. "I'm home, here."

"And what if she decides to go home, after her dad croaks? She'll have to inherit the business, right?"

"I don't know."

Meiko waved the subject away. "Sorry, I'm asking too many 'what if's right now. This is all new, I shouldn't be pestering you with these questions."

"No, no, it's good that I think about this in advance," Miku admitted. 

"Her dad still has a while to go, so you two have time to figure that out."

Luka had said the same thing. The tealette nodded, but kept the questions filed for later. "I suppose we do." 

"Talking about her dad, any news?"

They hadn't had time to talk about his latest emails. "Since that last phone call, nothing I know really. He sent over some of her wardrobe and all the guitars, but that's about it."

"You really think he wants to meet you?"

"Sure. He's a man of his word, isn't he?"

"I wouldn't know."

"What?"

"Never met the guy."

Miku stared in confusion. "Not once?"

"Nah. And Luka didn't talk about him often. All this is more than I ever heard about him. You know, beyond the 'my dad wants me to go to this gala' phrase; heard that more times than I'd like."

"Ever heard about her mom?"

"Not at all."

"Huh."

"What about her?"

"Oh, nothing really. Just a ghost figure. Barely there to begin with."

"Not surprised. I didn't think she even had one. Think you'll meet her?"

"Don't think so, no."

Meiko nodded. "That's fair. You scared?"

"Of what, meeting him?"

"Yeah."

"Nah. He might hate me for being Luka's partner but apparently I can score points by just being a hard worker. Not that I really care."

The brunette giggled. "Hah, imagine he takes a real liking to you."

"That would only change everything," Miku said with a chuckle.

"It would."

"But I doubt he'll ever like me more than bare minimum respect. He can barely see Luka's value as an individual person. Why would he do me that honor?"

Meiko deflated somewhat. "Maybe this will force him to?"

"Guess we can dream."

They did some more people-watching in silence, the weight of the conversation slowly lifting. When Miku stood to stretch a bit, Meiko asked, "You think you two will be together for real long?"

"Me and Luka?"

"Yeah."

"I really want to, if that matters," Miku replied with a casual shrug. "We didn't rush into things because we wanted to see how well we really fit. We were both scared of being surprised by unexpected issues."

"Right, I gathered. And it does matter, if you want to know."

"Good." Miku paused. "You think we will?"

"Huh?"

"You think we'll be together very long?" Miku rephrased. "You asked, so I'm wondering if you have any insight to share."

Meiko considered it for a second. "Neither of you dated much before this."

"'At all' is more like it. We're doing the best we can, but without prior experience, I have nothing to compare this to."

"Well, whether I'm more experienced in dating or not, it really comes down to the people in the relationship themselves, and I've only ever known either of you as single people."

"Right."

"You're both happier than I've ever seen you, though," Meiko conceded. "You're being really good towards each other."

"I hope so. I want this to last."

"And as long as you both want that, then it will. I can tell that you're both very serious about it, and I'm really proud of both of you. Just need to keep those tough questions in mind."

"Right."

The brunette looked around one more time before stretching, facing the sun. "I think you two will be ok. No matter what happens."

The mechanic chuckled, followed her when she started walking. "What makes you think that?"

"I'm not sure. Part of me wants it because it's just so perfect; from the meeting to the fact that you two are literally my best friends in the whole world, and all I want is for you two to be happy. But even if I try to shut that part out, there's just something else. Every time I looked at you two, the way you interact and everything... I don't know."

"Well, either way, it's reassuring."

Meiko shook her head. "That's the thing. It's almost like you don't need reassuring at all. Neither of you. When I had a similar conversation with Luka yesterday, she was just like you. So unafraid to ask tough questions, to listen to the answers, because whatever we had to say didn't really matter; you already know." The brunette laughed. "Or something. It sure feels like it."

Miku smiled, the warmth of the sun paling in comparison to the warmth she felt. "Yeah. I guess I do."

* * *

Miku quietly stepped out of the elevator, took off her shoes, stepped into her slippers, hung her jacket on the coat rack, and shuffled impatiently towards the bedroom. All the lights were out, the new curtains were drawn, and only the dishwasher rumbled in the kitchen, taking care of another evening's dishes. Miku could almost smell the lingering cologne and perfume of the crowd that had left minutes before she had arrived. 

Luka was already in bed, and if the tealette hadn't known for a fact that the guests had disappeared a handful of minutes prior, she would have sworn that she had been fast asleep for hours. When Miku shut the door, the dancer's form shifted, one arm reaching up from under the covers.

"Miku," she called out, her voice heavy with fatigue.

"I'm here," the mechanic replied, skipping the idea of getting changed for the moment so she could join her girlfriend as soon as possible. 

When they finally found one another in the dark room, Luka let out a deep sigh. "Finally..."

"Yeah, it's been too long."

"Entirely," the dancer said, finding her favorite spot under Miku's chin. "How has your week been?"

"It's been pretty great. Busy at work, but Meiko and I could hang out a bunch."

"Did you two have a good time?"

"Yeah. It was amazing," Miku muttered, one of her hands going to play with the woman's hair, pulling out the loose braid that remained. "It was totally worth the wait."

"Good."

"How was your week?"

"Busy," the taller woman groaned. "But now all my affairs are in order. I can start teaching right after everybody leaves."

"Everybody or just the extras?"

Luka chuckled. "The extras. Meiko, Kaito and his parents could swing by one of my classes if they wish to."

"Fantastic."

"The extras, as you put it, have been taking up most of my time otherwise," Luka went on. "I will give them credit; they certainly are more open-minded about this trip than I had expected."

"That's also great. You're having fun?"

"They are my friends, of course I am."

"They're not being annoying?"

"Only slightly," Luka admitted with a chuckle. "But if you are concerned, no, they are not giving me a hard time for being with you. They are very happy for the both of us."

Miku let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, which prompted the other women to give her a kiss. 

"You worry too much," the dancer whispered against her lips.

"They're important to you, yet I don't know those people too well. I guess I still have a small collection of prejudices."

"You should join us more often. It has been over a week."

Miku wanted to protest, but Luka kissed her again, simultaneously silencing her and giving her time to think about her reply a bit more carefully. "It's just a bit tough for me. I know I ought to give them a chance and practice and everything. But I can't shake that I'm really the odd one out." After another peck, Miku added the final point, "I'd rather spend more time with just Meiko or you, really."

Luka hummed into the following kiss, parting just long enough to say, "Are you prioritizing again."

Miku had to wait a bit, and draw in a breath before she could reply, "Maybe I am. I don't really care about—"

The taller woman seemed to have dropped the subject when Miku noticed that their embrace was steadily getting more and more heated, the kisses deeper as Luka steadily made her way on top of her. When Luka was the one who had to part for air, the tealette whispered, "Guess we're gonna do this."

"Oh sweetheart, it has been entirely too long," Luka grumbled, her hand snaking under Miku's shirt.

"Can't say I disagree," the mechanic conceded, swallowing a moan as the other woman latched on to the pulse point on her neck. She was just about to let it go, let Luka do as she pleased, but she pushed past the haze of desire to ask, "I kind of wanted to talk about other things first, though?"

"What things?" Luka asked absent-mindedly, her fingers tracing lines over Miku's belly. 

"Well, you said over a week ago that your dad wrote?"

At that, Luka let everything go, straightening her arms so that she hovered high over the mechanic, a scowl on her face. "Now? Of all times?"

Miku shrugged, shivering at the cool air that had come between them. "It's been ages and I've been worried. Between my spending time with Meiko and you entertaining the others, we haven't had time to ourselves to discuss it since last weekend."

The taller woman shook her head, and rose to sit up. Miku followed suit, feeling unexpectedly isolated. After a few breaths, Luka said, "It is nothing terrible. It is discomforting, but not terrible."

"What's he been saying?"

"Nothing," Luka said with a dismissive shrug. Even in the faint light, Miku could see that the other woman had taken the time to remove all her makeup after the party, and had changed into a feather-light negligee. "He sends a few emails every now and then, asking how I am doing, how the studio is coming along, and so on."

"Is that it?"

"That is it."

"Is he trying to get information out of you or something?"

"No, it is not an interrogation, not quite. It is more like... Small talk," Luka said, the end of her sentence bordering on a question. "It is strange. We have never conversed like this before."

"What do you answer?"

"The truth, but not at length. I am not sure how much I want to tell him. I feel like he is trying to lure me in."

Miku took hold of the corner of the cover and fiddled with it a bit, nervous. "He might be. I think it's kind of hard to believe that he had a real change of heart and is now trying to be a better dad."

"Only time can tell," Luka said with a sigh. 

"Yeah."

"He has suggested that he might visit in a few months. After my studio has had the time to gain some momentum."

Miku nodded. "Better than going there, I guess. He has no power here."

"That is true, rationally speaking."

"Do you want to see him again?" When Luka took too long to reply, she added, "Forget about his emails for a second and stop thinking if he's sincerely trying to reconnect. Right now, as things stand, do you want to see him?"

"No."

"Then he shouldn't come. If he shows up anyway let me know. My dad and I will chase him off with crowbars. And drills. And other unpleasant power tools."

Luka chuckled and embraced the tealette once again. "I will."

Miku smiled at the hug, though was unable to relax quite yet. "What if, at one point there isn't a shadow of a doubt he had a change of heart and he wants to make amends for everything?"

"I do not think that anything in the world could ever fully convince me that he is not being deceitful," Luka mused, one of her hands trailing at the hem of Miku's shirt. "I would not trust him very quickly. He has many years to make up for. My whole life. The same goes for my mother."

"Right."

"It might be easier to cut them out entirely."

"Do you want to?"

After a pause, Luka asked, "Is it bad that I do not?"

"No."

"Part of me has always wanted them to love me. If my father is at least willing to make an effort in that direction, then that part is willing to acknowledge that. The rest of me will never let me forget, though."

Miku nodded; it made sense. "Time will tell, then. We'll see how it goes. For now, though, he's not allowed to visit."

"I would prefer to be in a more stable situation before I ever let him get close to me again."

"How stable?"

"My studio must make a decisive profit," Luka started. "He may not ever be under the impression that I need him or his business. I must be able to say farewell to him at any given point and suffer no repercussions."

"That's fair."

"He may never think that I may need shelter or aid; I have my house, my car. There isn't anything he can do for me any longer."

"Right. You got the house, business is pending. What else?"

Luka sat up, hands withdrawn, once again oh so frail in the night. "As long as I am not married, he can believe that he may arrange a spouse for me."

"Right. I gathered."

They regarded one another for a moment, unafraid yet not quite relaxed, empty handed and restless. After the pause, Luka asked, "Would you marry me someday?"

Miku wouldn't break eye contact. "Someday? Yeah."

"I do not want to give you the impression that I am settling," Luka started quickly, suddenly nervous. "I know it is far too soon to say for certain, and I would hate to make you believe that I would marry you purely for the protection—"

"It's ok," Miku assured her, stopping the tirade with two firm hands on her shoulders. "I get what you're asking." Luka remained tense, eyes full of worry, so Miku added, carefully, "I get it. If, no matter how many years we spend together, marriage wasn't a possible outcome, then it would be best for you to move on quickly."

Luka broke with a terrible sob. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's ok." The mechanic hurried to hold her close, her strong frame feeling as delicate as the nightgown that covered her. She whispered into her hair, "It's not something either of us can help. Guess we're real lucky that we love each other so much."

The taller woman held onto her with a vice grip, her body shaking slightly as she cried. "You don't deserve being put in this situation."

"Neither do you, love," Miku gently reminded her. "And, in case you need to hear it, I didn't just say that I could marry you one day just to make you stick around for longer. I meant it."

Luka nodded. "I love you."

"I love you too," the mechanic whispered. "Do you want to talk about it in the morning?"

"Getting married?"

"Yeah. Eventually, not soon, you know? But there would be things we'd have to sort sooner or later."

Luka withdrew from the hug but didn't release the other woman. "I suppose that you are right," she muttered, letting the other woman wipe away her tears. With closed eyes, she whispered, "There are a few things."

"Like what we'll do once your dad finally does hand you the family business."

"Right."

"Maybe a few financial aspects."

"Always."

"And kids, maybe."

Luka opened an eye. "Would you like children?"

"Yeah. I'd love to have kids someday. You?"

A small smile tugged at Luka's lips. "As would I. I have always dreamt of being a better parent than mine have been."

Miku chuckled, kissed her brow. "You'll make an amazing mom."

"As would you."

"You know it," the mechanic teased, pulling the other woman closer. "Sorry for bringing all this up right now."

"No, it is good that you did."

The tealette blew a raspberry. "If you say so. I know this wasn't exactly the kind of late-night activity you had in mind after so many long, tiring days."

Luka laughed lightly, shook her head. "Certainly not."

"We'll talk about in the morning, yeah?"

"Yes." The taller woman yawned, her frame weighing more and more on the tealette. "Sleep first."

"Wh— Sleep?"

"Sweetheart, I was exhausted and now I am entirely spent," Luka said, giving the mechanic a single peck on the lips. "And it is entirely your fault."

"Are you sure there isn't anything I could do to earn your forgiveness?" Miku asked smugly, both her hands on the other woman's waist. The cloth was so thin it could just as well have been absent.

Luka, tired and still somewhat puffy-eyed, managed a mischievous smile. "Perhaps."

"Your wish is my command," the tealette whispered, pressing her lips to each of her shoulders.

"Kiss me." The order was somewhat timid, so Miku made sure to obey swiftly, holding the other woman close, each one of her gestures firm and confident. She gently pushed the other woman back so that they would lie down, not once breaking apart, refusing to let a single gasp of air get between them. Once the mechanic was settled on top of the other woman, her hands teasing at the hem of the negligee, Luka gave her final order for the night, whispered low and hot in her ear.

The rest of the world couldn't touch them until morning.


	12. Bells

Meiko and Kaito both ended up staying for longer than a month. While the rest of their friends left the country on their scheduled plane home, bringing along a variety of souvenirs and a vast collection of photos, the married couple cancelled their flight and spent even more time touring the area.

Miku got to catch up with her friend more than she could have ever wished for, and it made her happier than she could say. It wasn't quite like back in the good old days, when their only obstacles were homework and upcoming tests, but every week they found a day, an evening, a destination. They went to their favorite hangouts multiple times, ordered the same junk food they used to all those years ago, and explored new places together. 

When the extras had left the country and it was clear that the brunette didn't intend to leave anytime soon, there was less pressure to meet up one-on-one. Luka started tagging along, or Miku tagged along with them. They went to gardens, movies, and they almost managed to get Miku to enter a nightclub. Miku and her father were also invited for dinner at Meiko's place, where the parents could catch up and the tealette could get to know Kaito better. It was much easier to get closer to a person when it was possible to talk in a more private manner, and Miku appreciated learning more about the man who had married her best friend. He was a good man, with a terrific sense of humor, somewhat silly, but could be serious when needed. He was perfect for Meiko, and loved making her smile, laugh and cheer.

It could sometimes be tricky to find days to hang out; after most of the group had left the country, Luka officially started teaching dance in her studio. It was a near-instant success, all the prep work in advertising paying off. It helped that Luka could charge very little for classes, since she still had her savings. She needed to schedule multiple classes per day so she could target both specific dance styles and age groups. Her final agenda was barely more forgiving than Miku's; she worked Saturdays so that kids could attend, and evenings so working adults could. Only her mornings were free in that regard, but she used that time to plan the next classes, may it be creating charts or ordering equipment. All the work paid off though, since there was no longer any doubt that the studio would turn a cozy profit. Even after the students who were curious only to find out they weren't interested had left, she still had enough to cover rent for both the studio and her own apartment, plus essential purchases, which Luka had learned to budget down to a T with Miku's father's help. 

Meiko and Kaito also had their own plans, since they weren't staying just for fun. Kaito loved the place so much, he was seriously considering settling down and working there even if it meant sacrificing other benefits in other locations. Add the fact that Meiko loved the idea of coming back home long-term, and the couple was making preliminary plans for getting him naturalized and finding their own place to live. While their staying long-term remained hypothetical, it still made Miku absolutely giddy. Naturally, Kaito's parents were less thrilled by the idea, but that was a small mess the tealette didn't have the energy to look into; other parents required her attention. 

Luka's father continued to write innocent-sounding emails asking about her life. The spectrum of questions he asked was near-complete. He asked everything between wondering she was taking care of herself with a varied diet, to inquiring if the locals were friendly. He avoided only one subject, namely Miku. He didn't pretend she didn't exist, so he never inquired Luka about other potential suitors, but the entire topic of her love life was off the table. Neither woman could figure out if he was trying to be polite or if he was in denial. His intentions were impossible to decipher, so both of them maintained a healthy dose of skepticism and wariness. And, since he didn't ask, they didn't tell that their future was more certain than it had ever been. 

It wasn't a conversation that anybody could possibly have in a single sitting, but they started it in earnest the morning after those difficult questions were initially brought up. While the topic of children was easily squared away (they hadn't decided on whether they'd adopt, accept the help of a donor, or see how far science could get in the following years quite yet), the question of the family business was more tough to tackle. Luka couldn't imagine going back to the States to sit behind a desk and crunching numbers day after day, because at that point in her life she finally had something to do that felt real. She was teaching dance, working hard, and she was finally proud of what she was doing. Giving that up was preposterous by that point, and they briefly entertained the idea of selling once the company was in Luka's hands. Somewhat paradoxically, and ironically, the taller woman loathed that idea. While her destiny always had been to marry a man who would inherit the company, it also meant keeping the company in the family no matter the cost. It had been drilled into her since day one that the family business was one to be proud of, a legacy, an heirloom, precious and valuable. Miku couldn't understand at first, but if her father cared for it so much that it forced him to come to terms with his daughter's revolt and escape, then she could imagine that despite all the misery it had caused her, Luka also wanted to hold on to it. She could also imagine that it was a way of finally seizing control, for she was never the one the company was supposed to go to. It meant re-inventing a machine of oppression into something new, which was a far better potential future than the one initially promised to her. Still, would it be worth moving back for? Luka refused to think so, not with what she had created in such a short amount of time. Their temporary decision, established after a few hours of debate: should something terrible happen to her father and she inherited the company with little to no warning, they would migrate the work they could and see who they could hire there to do the work they couldn't. There were a few right-hand men Luka knew who would pounce on the opportunity to run even a part of the business, and many were trustworthy enough. They knew that this decision of theirs would evolve over time; should Luka grow tired of the studio, should something happen to Miku's father or the garage, or should any such factor change, then the plan would change as well. 

As for living arrangements, Luka had grown fond of the penthouse and no longer considered moving into anything larger if it meant going further away, effectively killing any related concerns. By the time Meiko and Kaito had extended their stay, Miku had officially moved in with her. The landlord had been informed and the contract adjusted accordingly, her clothes and her possessions had been moved, and the bedroom at the garage no longer had a curtain dividing the space in two. Her father was, as she had predicted, happy to have the whole space to himself. He was more sad to see her go, though. It also took some getting used to driving to and from the garage instead of simply going back inside once the day's work was done. The payoff was more than worth it, though. Even though both women got home late, exhausted from a long day of demanding physical work, they were happy to return to open arms. Luka had done a fantastic job getting used to cleaning up after herself, and the two of them had no issue with dividing household chores even though it was an asymmetric deal; Miku worked longer hours, but at Luka's insistence, she did not contribute to her share of the rent. While it bothered the mechanic initially, she accepted that there wasn't much she could do, and compensated by doing what she could. The tealette bought groceries on her way home, stopping at a 24/7 gas station when needed. Luka, who was home before her, could text her in advance if they needed anything. The dancer did the laundry, since she had the wardrobe full of clothes which had very specific washing instructions. Miku took care of the kitchen, Luka of the living room, they shared bed- and bathroom tasks, and they cooked for one another depending on who had the motivation and energy.

Sometimes, when the garage was eerily quiet, her father sent her away, so the mechanic could visit Luka in her studio. The younger students in particular enjoyed her visits, for reasons Miku didn't quite understand. She couldn't complain though, talking with them about cars and admiring their school projects. Some of the parents hadn't liked her initially, at least until they learned that she wasn't just some thug hanging around. Luka made sure to make introductions, somehow keeping track of every single person who had and hadn't met her yet, and Miku was sure she did it in order to encourage her to be more social and make more friends. There were a few really fun people, but only time would tell if one day they would hang out as friends instead of mere vague acquaintances.

Miku liked visiting for other reasons than the socialization and the attention; she loved seeing Luka dance. She had been too close by, chained to her wrist, to be able to see when they had first met, and too deep in bittersweet sadness right after the wedding. Plus, the entire context of the dancing had changed; now, the woman danced on her own terms, with partners she enjoyed spending time with, without having to fear whether she'd be forced to marry them. It was a sight to see. With the mirror at the back of the room, Miku could see her from all sides, all her strength and elegance highlighted by the stark light from the windows. She was gorgeous, powerful, swift, precise. Her students didn't compare but they strived to, and that was beautiful in its own way. Luka could do a motion again and again without complaint, could stop any song at any point to make corrections to someone's posture and resume without hesitation. She knew her art inside and out and thrived while she shared it. 

When possible, she roped Miku in. Children in particular benefited a lot not only from seeing how a dance worked with a partner when they could see both people simultaneously, letting them understand how the different movements fit together like puzzle pieces, but from seeing somebody far less skilled than them dance. Miku sucked at dancing and wasn't afraid to admit it, and it always gave others a small confidence boost; not because they felt better than her, but because they would know that no matter their skill level, they wouldn't be judged for it. Miku had fun when she was summoned to help, even if she didn't have quite the required grace and elegance. She enjoyed learning a bit too, memorizing a few steps if just to bask in the praise Luka would give her after the lesson. 

As for free time? The hours which found them free didn't typically allow them to visit the public pool, but they enjoyed walks through the local area, seeing what businesses were around, visiting the nearby parks. Luka sometimes went out dancing with Meiko but never came home very late. When she could, Miku spent some time with her father after work, catching up while they weren't busy. Most evenings found the women too tired to do much, though. After dinner, once all the chores were squared away, they would curl up on the couch or in bed, Miku strumming one of the guitars, Luka reading a book. Miku played rock, blues, jazz, while Luka read about philosophy, dance, business. It was easy to do nothing around one another, to enjoy each second as it ticked by, waiting for the world to wake them up. 

Time passed quickly. Little things happened that dotted the calendar; Meiko and Kaito left for a while, scouting other locations to move to, only to return months later, decided. Miku and Luka went on a road trip, taking an entire week to themselves. The tealette often treated Luka to dinner dates and other little excursions with the money she got from the garage. Her father, for the first time in his life, opened a savings account. 

The most notable event was definitely Christmas in July, hosted by Meiko and Kaito in their brand-new home. Both Kaito and Luka were still getting used to full-blown winter in July at that point, and celebrating Christmas on top of that was absolutely alien. To fully drive the celebration home, Kaito's parents even flew in. Out of all those invited, though, Miku's father was probably the one who had looked forward to it the most, pulling all stops on his cooking skills and contributing a vast amount of food to the table. Meiko's parents did the same, since they didn't come from nearly as far and could easily transport it all. Miku and Luka brought desserts, simple things to prepare given their long work hours. There were a few other friends that Meiko and Kaito had made in the few months they had been living in the area, people who were all smiles and who had nobody else to celebrate with.

This created a particularly joyous atmosphere in the household; everybody was happy and felt lucky to be there. When it came to gifts, the rule was nothing big and nothing fancy, since not all could either buy, bring or pack something grandiose for everybody. These were mostly silly toys or trinkets, ranging from sweatbands to fluffy keychains to small stuffed animals. Everybody ate and drank —only water for the Hatsune family— well into the night, retiring late. There was only room for Kaito's parents to sleep over, so Miku's father drove some of the other guests to their residences, and Miku drove Meiko's parents, and then Luka and herself home. They arrived back at the penthouse late, Luka still somewhat tipsy from the wine, but they were happy. Miku was sure that the last time she had celebrated anything to that extent was at Meiko's bachelorette party, though her father wasn't even there with her to celebrate with her, so it hardly compared. It felt good to leave work behind, to forget about her future parents-in-law, to forget that the world and all its obligations existed for a little while. There were only her family, friends, and the woman she loved the most in the world; what more could she want? 

That question had first come to mind halfway through the festivities, and continued to bounce around in her skull for weeks afterward. When she and her dad high-fived after a difficult job, when she tucked Luka in after a long day, when she was cooking them both dinner, when she was driving to work, that question would resurface. What more could she want? When winter finally drew back and made way for spring, Meiko and Kaito's first wedding anniversary rolled by, which they celebrated accordingly. It also marked a full year since Miku and Luka had met for the first time. 

It had been only a year, which was jarring. So much had changed in so little time. And already, Miku was asking herself what more she could want.

Perhaps because a very easy reply kept following right behind, but Miku didn't want to address it right away. It was always too soon to entertain such an idea. Even after every passing day, week, and month, she kept dismissing it. Even after Luka and her ironed out all the details, knowing the plan for their future like the back of their hands, it was still too early. There was no need to consider that right then, when the days all blended together so beautifully. Startling the steady heartbeat of their days was meant for pleasant dates, serious conversations, special events. Not unwanted questions she wasn't ready for. She wanted to stick to the norm.

"You have a minute to talk?"

That stuck out from the norm. Miku had just shrugged on her leather jacket, ready to head home like every other day, stopping by the gas station to pick up more garlic powder and some ice cream. Her father had asked the question, waiting for her reply as his hands gently wrung a towel.

She couldn't stay; she knew Luka was cooking already and expected her home as soon as possible. If her father had wanted to hang out for a bit, he would have joined her, knowing that he was always welcome. If nothing was the matter, he wouldn't look so serious.

Miku felt a kernel of concern settle.

"Sure?"

He hesitated. "You're in a hurry?"

"Not particularly."

"Alright."

"Is something wrong?" she managed to ask.

"No, not at all. I just wanted to talk for a bit."

"Ok."

He invited her to follow him inside, to sit on the couch. Before he joined her, he disappeared into what had become only his bedroom for a solid minute. When he finally sat down, he wouldn't quite meet her eye.

"So, uhm, you and Luka are doing really well, right?" he asked. 

Miku frowned, puzzled. "Oh yeah, sure. Her dad is still keeping tabs on us with his emails, but that's about it. Why?"

"I was just wondering, you know. It's been almost a year since you two have been together, right?"

"Getting there. Just a few more months."

"You going to celebrate?"

"Maybe," Miku said, already thinking of surprising her after work. She was squaring away some money to save up for a gift, though she hadn't quite decided what it would be yet. "We'll see."

"Right." He said, a small smile on his face as he rummaged through a pocket. After some effort, he produced a small cube-shaped box. It was made of a dull metal, and if it hadn't been for the tiniest hint of hinges on one side, Miku wouldn't have ever spotted the seam that split it into two perfect halves. 

"What's that?"

He shrugged, turning the box every which way nervously for a handful of seconds, before giving it to her. "I want you to have it."

She felt the weight; it felt like it was mostly hollow, but sturdy. The metal was of good quality, and had once been polished to a shine. It had aged a bit but was still handsome, the edges neat without being sharp, the corners perfectly and evenly rounded by hand. "You made this?"

"The box, yeah."

After some careful feeling and flipping, she managed to pry it open. Within, upon a small bed of dark velvet, was an elegant ring with a single gleaming stone.

She felt her stomach drop.

"The ring was your grandma's," he explained slowly. "Your mom left it on the nightstand when... You know."

"Oh."

"It's got a better future with you."

She glanced at him. His eyes were trained on the floor, hands clasped together, elbows resting heavily on his knees. She knew that he hadn't worn his wedding ring for years, ever since he got sober. 

"You don't want it?" she asked carefully.

"Nah."

Gingerly, she took out the ring. That question bounced back to the front of her mind, and this time, she voiced her reply. "It's still pretty soon."

"Yeah, I suppose. But I figured that, since this is a possibility, might as well be prepared."

She nodded, glancing at the stone. "What is it?"

"Moissanite. More sparkly than diamond, fraction of the price." He chuckled. "Your grandpa was real proud of that find."

"It's gorgeous."

"Yeah. Band is silver, so it needs polishing every now and then."

She whistled. "Might as well get it properly fitted, then. Luka has a few rings; I'll nab one and make sure the sizes match."

"You know a place that will do that?"

"Mom of one of Luka's students is in that business. Can't hurt to ask."

"Might be pricey."

She laughed a bit. "I don't think I care."

He looked at her, a smile forming on his lips. "When will you get that done?"

"As soon as possible. Why wait?"

"Planning on asking her soon?"

At that, Miku stilled. She placed the ring back in its bed of velvet. "I'm not sure. "

"There isn't a real hurry," he started again. "I don't want to make you think that there is."

"I know there isn't. If anything, I'd want this to last forever. But..." She sighed, shut the box. "It's only been a year."

"Sure, yeah," he started, eyes now on the box. "But, well, so what?"

"What do you mean?"

"What are you waiting for?"

Miku thought about it for a while. "More time to pass, I guess."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Are you worried that you two have different goals in life? That you'll want different things?"

"No, not at all. We've talked about all this time and time again."

"You two have talked about this too, then."

"Hundreds of times. Always preceded by 'I know it's a little soon', sure. But we both know that we're heading in the same direction. We're happy."

"So, what else are you waiting to happen?"

Miku frowned, glanced at the box. "I don't know."

"Your only obstacle is that pesky dad of hers, isn't it?"

"At this point, he's more of an encouraging element, to be honest," she muttered. "The sooner we tie the knot, the sooner we'll know what his real intentions are. If he was just waiting for Luka to be single again, then we can get rid of that once and for all."

He frowned. "Are you feeling pressured into this?"

"What? No! There isn't anything I'd want more than this! I've been thinking about it for months! I was already thinking of where I would get her a nice ring and everything! God, what I wouldn't give to call her my wife." Miku ranted, a light blush forming on her features. "But, who gets married within a year?"

"What are you afraid of, exactly?"

"I don't even know. I know I won't be tying her down or anything. We've been through too many tough conversations to suddenly discover terrible secrets about each other. I guess... I just don't know what a real marriage is supposed to look like."

"No?"

"No. Sure, I practically grew up with Meiko's parents too, but still."

"You spend time with Meiko and Kaito."

"Yeah, sure. That just feels like an extended version of dating, though."

He chuckled. "That's exactly it though, isn't it."

"Except it's probably because it's still in their early days! It's too similar to how Luka and I get along."

"I would take that to mean that you two are already as married as it gets."

Miku sighed. "I guess you could. But I don't know what it's like long-term. What it's supposed to be like."

"It'll be however you make it."

"...Maybe I should just wait another year or so. Just a little bit longer."

"If you're waiting for more time to pass for the sake of letting time pass, might as well do that while married."

She opened the box again. The gem within sparkled, even in the early evening light. "That sounds like dangerous advice."

"It's dangerous if you're still trying to figure yourselves out. If you're still trying to figure out who the other person is," he said with a chuckle. "But, as we just established, you two are already as married as it gets. Might as well make it official."

"Might as well," Miku muttered. "I'll run it by her, first."

"Of course, of course," he said jovially, but his smile died down a little when she didn't move, her eyes stuck on the ring. "Hey."

"Yeah?"

"No matter what happens —and I'm not just talking about her not wanting to consider the question right away— if people ask why you got married so soon or blame pressure or anything, no matter what, I'm standing right behind you, ok?"

She finally looked from the ring, and nodded slowly. "Ok."

"I'm proud of you. I trust you'll talk about what needs talking about and make the decisions that need making. Whatever you decide, I've got your back. That won't ever change."

Miku nodded again, tears in her eyes, letting him envelop her in a huge hug. 

"Hey, dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I... I owe you so much more than I can say," she admitted.

He only chuckled. "Nah. You don't owe me squat."

* * *

"Something on your mind, love?"

Luka shook her head, joining her girlfriend at the dining table. She had already gotten changed out of her dance clothing, wearing a sweater over her warm training pants. Miku had made them both an easy and hearty stir-fry, but with a few personal touches it was absolutely divine. Despite already being at home for a while, and despite the delicious smell, the dancer looked like she didn't even know it was dinner time.

Just when Miku was going to ask if that day of work had been particularly exhausting, Luka explained, "Yuuki's mother has been acting odd lately."

Miku froze. "Odd?"

"Yes. She always was a level-headed and a respectable person, even if she was not fond of you at first. But now? She is..."

The mechanic watched her think as she served her some of the stir-fry. "She is?"

"She is always so happy to see me for some reason," Luka tried to explain. After thanking Miku for the food, she continued saying, "She is always smiling and giggling. Like a child."

"Well, maybe she's in a good mood nowadays," Miku tried to reason.

"Perhaps. It is quite uncharacteristic, though."

The tealette nodded, pretending to wonder what could be the cause while she tried to remember whether she'd put Luka's ring back where she had found it. "Who knows. Could be anything."

"It feels like she knows something about me that I do not," Luka muttered, before starting to eat. At that point, she realized what she had before her and all but melted. "Oh, this is perfect."

Miku beamed. "Thought you'd like it."

"Just what I needed," the dancer confessed, holding Miku's hand. "It has been a long day."

"Did something happen?"

"Aside from Yuuki's mother being a mystery, nothing in particular. The afternoon class was a bit rowdy, but I'm used to that by now."

"Nice."

"And how was work for you?"

"Quiet, nowadays. But we're just waiting for the vacationers to roll in. There's bound to be a bunch of work soon enough."

"There is always more, isn't there." Luka said with a light laugh.

"Always," Miku said with a quiet hum, enjoying the warmth of Luka's hand on hers'. She leaned against the other woman slightly, just enough to feel her. "Hey, I was wondering something."

"Yes?"

The small weight of the box burned in her pocket. "Did you ever think of when you'd like to get married?"

"When?"

"Time of year and stuff. If you had an ideal date."

"Oh. I never did give that much thought." She chuckled, putting down her fork. "It is always funny, discussing this. I never thought I would have a choice. Now, every time we talk about it together, I am reminded that it is entirely in my power to choose. Every detail."

Miku smiled with her, giving her hand an extra squeeze. "It's great."

"It is." Luka leaned against her girlfriend a bit more. "I am not sure I know that particular detail, however. A nice time of year to get married... I suppose spring might be a popular answer."

"Wonderful weather, agreeable temperatures, lots of flowers," Miku listed. "Yeah, really popular. Fall, too. For the same reasons."

"Winter sounds cozy."

"Winter?"

Luka nodded. "Winter was the time of year when there would be fewer dances scheduled. The rich prefer to sit quietly at home, away from the cold and wind. I considered that to be my time off, free to do more of what I liked."

"I guess it is pretty cozy. Not really ideal for an outdoor reception, though."

"Not if you plan to invite a hundred people," Luka agreed. "A small event in a cozy location would be perfect, though."

"Oh, for sure."

"Why did you ask?"

"Huh?"

"About the wedding. A bit soon to start writing down dates, no?"

Miku finished chewing her bite of food before putting her fork down and turning to face the other woman. "Maybe. But, well, says who?"

Luka blinked. "Says who?"

"Would you be totally freaked out if we got engaged sometime this year?"

The taller woman thought about the question for a while. "Is there a hurry?"

"N-no, not at all," Miku stammered. "I guess, I was just wondering what the point was in waiting. Just wanted to see what your thoughts are."

Luka thought about it again. "Usually, people spend some more time together before considering this step."

"I know. We haven't been officially dating for a year. It's a bit silly, really."

"Perhaps a bit," Luka conceded. "Though, I must admit, I have no real arguments against it."

"You don't?"

"I am nervous at the thought, of course. It is a big step. But many people have gotten married a lot sooner and made it work."

"Could just be dumb luck," Miku pointed out with a chuckle.

"It could be. However, it is an indicator that there is no required minimum amount of time to know one another."

"Right."

"There is also the fact that I have control in this decision that makes it tempting."

"That, too."

"It would also free me from my father, irrevocably." Luka frowned. "It is a very tempting idea."

"We don't have to rush into it, though. Just because it's a tempting idea."

"Of course, of course," the dancer said with a smile, returning to her meal. "Perhaps we should wait a little longer. Just to be sure."

Miku chuckled again, which Luka mirrored. "Right. To be even more sure."

"The most certain we could possibly be."

"Ninety-nine point nine nine nine percent," the tealette said jokingly.

Luka smiled, squeezed her hand. "I will ask one thing, however."

"Yeah?"

"If, despite this conversation, I were to propose someday soon," she started carefully. "Would you say no?"

"No," Miku admitted. "Getting engaged doesn't mean we have to get married right away, I guess."

"That is true."

"And if I proposed?"

Luka glanced at her. "Neither would I."

"...Good to know." The tealette cleared her throat. "And how do you feel about, I don't know, those super public proposals?"

"I loathe them. They are the bread and butter of the elite; hosting a large event with a dance and a band simply to ask in front of a crowd? It is nothing more than showing off at that stage."

"Yeah, I guess I agree. And even if it's not all scripted and stuff, when you're not super rich, it still sucks since there's also that huge pressure to say yes, 'cause everybody is watching."

"It is awful."

"I guess little private events are better for that kind of thing?"

"Yes. Even more so when both parties have already discussed getting married, which should be the norm."

"Right, right."

"There is no need to make an event out of it either way. I feel like it would distract from the proposal itself."

"'Cause that _is_ the event."

"Precisely!"

Both women had finished their plates at that point, but neither of them made to move to the couch, or even to stand. Miku's free hand had wandered to her pocket, where she swore the ring would burn right through the fabric and char her alive. 

"I guess an evening like this would be perfect," she muttered.

"It would be."

Luka was looking right into her eyes, and Miku couldn't help but look straight back and accept that she would never feel that it was the perfect moment, such things just didn't happen in real life, there never was a right time until you made it the right time, and all she had to do was bite the bullet. 

When she placed the box on the table between them, Luka did exactly the same. She didn't even notice at first, until she saw the same tense anticipation in the dancer's eyes, and looked down at the table. Between them, side by side, awaited the small metal box, and a similar velvet cube.

"No way."

"You too?"

After a second of stunned silence, Miku said, "I was totally first, though."

Luka laughed, and used her free hand to pull her in for a kiss, which the tealette returned with a relieved sigh.

"I'll accept that defeat."

"Did we just propose at the same time?"

"I do think we did," Luka said with another laugh; the mechanic felt that she was shaking.

"God, we're such lovestruck idiots," Miku said with a smile. 

"Yes."

"Did you just— You haven't even looked at the ring yet!"

"Neither have you, sweetheart," Luka shot back.

"I didn't even ask— Well, that's a yes from me too!"

"Wonderful."

They kissed again, the two boxes still waiting before them, unopened. Fortunately, they could wait.

* * *

Luka absolutely adored her ring. Miku told her of its history, and that was enough to make Luka care for it even more. She wore it non-stop, and showed it off at work with contagious happiness. Yuuki's mother, who Miku had asked for the resizing, had absolutely exploded with glee.

Similarly, even though she hadn't worn a ring for any considerable stretch of time at any point throughout her life, Miku loved her ring too. Luka had not only purchased it with the help of her savings, she had it custom made so that it would withstand the rough environment of the tealette's workspace. For a variety of reasons, the mechanic still took it off when she went to work, but Luka had thought of that, getting a matching cord with the ring so she could wear it around her neck instead, the comparatively wide band of the ring grooved in order to make the process of attaching and removing the ring easy yet secure. Still, the material was durable and scratch-resistant, simple to wash and maintain, and the small gem within was a breathtaking clear blue. It reminded Miku of their conversation by Luka's pool, over a year prior at that point. It reminded her of their first spa trip, of Luka's eyes, of the sky on their first date. The gem was protected by the ring, not sticking out by even a hair, so that it wouldn't catch, snag, fall out, or be particularly vulnerable to damage. It was a sturdy ring. It was perfect. And it fit like a dream because Luka had apparently used a piece of rope to measure her finger size while she slept. 

She showed it off to her father, and then they hosted a small dinner party with all their friends, old and new, so that they could break the news. Meiko had been overjoyed, as expected, absolutely demanding that she be responsible for organizing the bachelorette party, if only to return the favor.

Then, Luka called her friends back home, promising the role of bridesmaid to some. Others asked about the best man, would they celebrate their bachelorette parties together, when was it going to happen, how long was the guest list going to be, but one question hurt a little more than the rest; which one of them was going to walk down the aisle?

One of them had phrased it differently, with a blunt and archaic "Which one of your dads will be giving his daughter away?" but the question remained. Family mattered during weddings, and Miku knew that her dad would absolutely kill to present her on the day. 

Luka's father, however? 

Over the course of the months, they debated what to do with him. While he had maintained a habit of sending emails, they had agreed to keep him in the dark. Luka did not want him nearby, not only out of fear that he might attempt to sabotage the wedding in some way, but she preferred to keep him at bay no matter what until she had a better idea of what she wanted out of their relationship, and that would remain nigh impossible until she would be entirely out of his control. So, it was rather clear that he would not be coming.

It did leave some other questions, though.

"You could, you know, 'play the groom'," Miku suggested while she played some random melodies on the guitar Luka gave her. 

Luka paused her leafing through a catalogue. "And you would walk down the aisle?"

"Yeah." The mechanic played for a little while longer, before saying, "We don't even have to do that whole shtick either, though. We could just get a civil wedding done. I'm not particularly religious."

"Your father is very much looking forward to that sort of ceremony."

"I know, but he'll understand if we did things differently. Do you want to do all that?"

Luka shrugged. "Somewhat. It would make for lovely photos."

"I guess it would."

"It would drive the point home, as well."

"For who?"

Luka considered a picture for a moment before flipping to the next page. "For me. I want it to be my own."

"What do you mean?"

"My father always saw it as a huge event, in a church, with thousands of guests with an endless party and catering and..." She trailed off with a sigh. "I want a small cozy ceremony, high on a mountain, far away from the world, surrounded by the people I love and who love me."

"On a mountain? Literally?"

After a pause, Luka decided, "Yes." 

"Then we'll do that," Miku said with a grin. 

"If I have to play the groom, would I have to wear the suit?"

"You know what I meant; we're two women, so neither of us is going to 'play groom' in that way," Miku teased lightly. "You don't have to wait by the altar, either. Maybe Meiko could present you?"

Luka's eyes lit up at the idea. "And we both walk down the aisle?"

"Yeah. Kaito told me a while ago about things like that. It happens more and more often. Or maybe you have another friend you'd want to consider?"

"No, Meiko is both our best friend. I cannot think of anybody better suited for the task."

"Party planner, bridesmaid, and now Dad substitute. Meiko's gonna be busy," Miku said with a chuckle. "You'll wear a dress?"

"Yes. And you?"

"This jacket and jeans!" When Luka playfully swatted her, she laughed, saying, "I'm kidding of course. I'll find a nice formal thing to wear. Something along the lines of what you got for me."

"It does not have to be very formal, per se. I will not be wearing all white."

"Oh, nice! What were you thinking?"

Luka scooted closer, showing the catalogue of dresses, none of which were specifically for weddings. There were lovely tan colors, richer dark tones that would compliment Luka's hair, highlighted with golden details. 

"If you won't be wearing white then I'm definitely not wearing black," Miku muttered as her eyes scanned the pages. "We'll really be making it into our own affair."

"I would want nothing more," Luka said happily. "Do you have any demands? Requests? Childhood dreams that need fulfilling?"

"I always thought weddings were kind of gross until I figured out it was because I loved women," Miku admitted. "Once same-sex marriage was legalized here, I could begin to entertain the idea again, but you know me; too busy putting work ahead of everything else. So no, I don't really have any dreams or anything."

"Very well. Perhaps with the food?"

"We're going to need a lot of water. At Meiko's party I had to really search. And a big cake."

"A big cake?" Luka asked. "How big?"

Miku laughed. "The biggest! I want everybody to be able to have a slice!"

"What flavor?"

"Hmm, vanilla. And lemon. Nothing too complicated. It has to taste really nice, not fancy per se."

"With the two little dolls on top?"

"Yeah! And we'll take a nice picture with it and send it to your dad if he needs proof."

Luka chuckled. "That sounds like a plan."

"Oh, and the venue we'll get married at, it'll be close to a hotel, right?"

"If we want to be able to accomodate for everybody, yes."

"It needs a pool, don’t you think?"

The dancer leaned over the guitar to kiss her. "I do."


	13. Epilogue

The wedding took place in the dead of winter the following year, a month before Miku's birthday. Meiko hosted an amazing party for both bachelorettes, and all their friends could participate regardless of gender. The place she found was perfect, a large sprawling hotel with understanding staff and a large collection of rooms to rent for all of their needs. It was a big event meant for everybody, where the parents swapped embarrassing stories, friends could catch up, all of them could dance and none of them would feel excluded. To top it all off, it had a wonderful pool.

The guest list had been carefully curated. Luka's parents were completely absent while Miku's father was the first one there. Meiko, along with her husband and parents, helped plan the event down to a T. Miku had few other people to invite, except for maybe a few nice people from Luka's studio. Luka's other friends from home were also invited, keeping the total number of attendees well under twenty-five.

This made the ceremony itself a lot easier. In the middle of winter, the mountainous southern island was snow-capped, the peaks difficult to reach. They had clung to the idea of the high-altitude wedding with stubborn determination though, so Meiko had found them the perfect team to fly the whole party up via helicopter. It was extravagant to say the least, but the view alone made it all worth it. The midday sun was complimented by a timid snowfall, the view punctuated by the sprawling sapphire lake in the valley below. By some stroke of luck, it wasn't even that ice cold, allowing the attendees to dress up without too much compromise. This included the two brides; Miku wore a dark grey suit with a teal tie (loosely tied, of course!) while Luka wore a beautifully rich brown (kobicha, Luka insisted it was called) colored dress, decorated with golden accents, her hair styled to perfection. They walked down the aisle side by side, Miku accompanied by her father and Luka by Meiko, and at the altar they exchanged their vows, swapped rings and sealed the whole deal with a kiss, just before the temperature sank once again. 

Back at the hotel there was dinner and cake for all, dancing aplenty with music of all kinds. To round off the whole party, the two newlyweds went to the pool and gushed about their future together and all it would bring.

The following day, before they left for a short but very needed honeymoon, they bid farewell to their friends and their families. But even with that done, even after they traveled to a wonderfully isolated little corner of nowhere that Luka had stumbled upon during her two-week solo trip, there was one last thing to do. 

Her eyes were full of determination, yet Luka didn't make a move.

"You don't have to call him now," Miku gently told her, hand on her shoulder. "It can wait until after we're home."

Luka shook her head. "I need to tell him. He needs to know."

Despite the fervor in her voice, she didn't dial the number. She shook, glared at the phone, but she couldn't bring herself to touch it.

"Will he even be awake at this hour?"

"I do not know," the dancer admitted. "And I do not care."

Miku nodded, leaning against her. "Now or whenever, I'll be here. It's up to you."

"Right, right. I just..." Luka shook her head. "I just want to make sure that this doesn't end in farewell, or anything."

"Yeah."

Luka breathed deeply, evenly, for a moment, trying to calm herself. The mechanic could feel when her thoughts would steal her away, sending her back to reality afraid, her breathing uneven, starting the cycle anew. But she didn't move, didn't stand from the couch, only pulling the blanket up higher when the winter cold seeped in a little more. She watched the snow fall outside, gathering on the window sill. She watched how the wind turned, sending the snow to and fro. She watched Luka's determination wobble and vacillate.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally dialed the number. When the phone started dialing, she pressed the speaker button.

Miku didn't object, only holding Luka's arm tighter. 

The phone rang once, twice, the tinny sound of the phone filling the otherwise muted silence. Luka kept her hands far away from the phone, hands balled into fists.

"Hello, Luka?"

She cleared her throat. "Hello, father. I have you on speaker phone."

"Ah, very well." He stuttered for a moment, and Miku thought she could hear him pushing things to the side, on a desk maybe. "I am surprised to hear you call, after so long. Is everything well?"

"Yes."

"Good, good." He cleared his throat, the background noise coming to a halt. "And who else do I have the pleasure of speaking to?"

Miku saw Luka open her mouth, but no sound came out.

"Hi, sir," she said, squeezing Luka's arm. "I'm Miku."

He was quiet for a moment. "Ah, I have heard much about you."

"Likewise, sir."

"Yes. Indeed. Well, I am pleased to speak to you, after so long."

Miku suppressed a chuckle, reducing it to a smug grin that he wouldn't hear. "I wouldn't be so sure."

"We are married, father," Luka all but blurted, voice surprisingly bold in the small dark room. 

"When did this happen?"

"Two days ago."

"I see." He was quiet again, and the two women waited for a moment. After what felt like an eternity, he asked, his voice strangely subdued, "Did you two have a nice wedding day?"

The dancer did a slight double-take. "Y-yes. It was beautiful."

"Did you have somebody to walk you down the aisle?"

"Yes. Meiko was there."

"Good. Good." He cleared his throat again. "I suppose that makes you my daughter in law then, Miku."

"Yeah, that's how it works."

"Yes. Indeed..." He trailed off, and Luka grew tense. "I will pass the news along to your mother, if I may."

"Of course."

"Wonderful. Well. Congratulations."

"Thank you."

He didn't say anything at all for a while, and Miku wondered if he had meant to hang up the phone. "And your dancing classes, they are going well?"

"Everything is perfect, father," Luka said, stern. "I have never been so happy in all my life."

"Yes. I can imagine." For the third time, he cleared his throat. "I would never forgive myself, if I never took the opportunity to meet you, Miku. You are part of my family, no matter what my thoughts or feelings may be."

Miku frowned slightly, feeling how her wife had tensed. "With all due respect, sir, Luka is part of my family more than anything else."

"I... I suppose that is true."

Luka sighed, kissed the top of Miku's head.

"My request remains, however," he continued, his voice wavering slightly. "I insist on meeting you one day."

"Fine by me, sir. But you're going to have to run that by my wife first."

"Your— Yes."

"You may visit," Luka started. "On several conditions."

"Name them."

Miku blinked; she hadn't expected such compliance on his behalf. 

"No questions about business. We will not be returning anytime soon, we will not sell it right away, and we are not interested in helping before absolutely necessary. No questions about any future heirs and whatnot; we have that under control and that is our business to take care of."

"...Understood."

"If you arrive with company, we will send you right back," Luka continued. "No competing spouses, no businessmen, nobody is to accompany you."

"Very well."

"If you present even the slightest bit of judgement towards either of our livelihoods or lifestyle, we will never speak again."

He cleared his throat. "Noted."

"And I want you to understand one more thing before you even consider visiting," Luka seethed. 

"Yes?"

"You do not own me any longer. I have my own life, I am married, and there is no favor you could ever do for me."

Miku gulped; she hadn't ever seen such vitriol on Luka's face. When he took some more time to reply, she held her closer.

"I understand," he finally said. 

At that, Luka relaxed considerably. "We will reach out to you when we are ready to receive. For the next few weeks, we will be celebrating."

"Of course. I look forward to hearing from you."

"Great," Miku said. "We'll keep you posted."

"Yes."

"Oh, and when you do fly over," the tealette started again, "Keep in mind that the hemispheres are switched and everything. It's the middle of winter here right now, so pack appropriately."

"Thank you for the reminder. May I ask one last question?"

"Shoot."

"May I see the photos?"

"Photos?"

"Of the wedding."

"When we receive them," Luka said. "We shall email you a few."

"Wonderful. I look forward to that as well."

"Great," Miku replied. "Until then."

"Yes. Until next time. Goodbye, Luka."

"...Goodbye."


End file.
